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‘ I want to thank you in Mrs. McKinlej^’s name.’ 




THE YOUNG COLOR GUARD; 

OR, 

TOMMY COLLINS AT SANTIAGO. 


BY 

MARY G. BONESTEEL. 

M 



New York, Cincinnati, Chicago: 
BENZIGKR BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 


1<)92 


library of CONGRESS 
Tw* Copies Received 


FEB 26 1904 

^ Copyright Entry 

dxiy. 5.1 cf i? 

CLASS XXc. No. 

^ ^ Hr 

COPY a 


Copyright, 1902, by Benzioer Brothers. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

' PAGE 

On to Cuba! 7 

CHAPTER II. 

A Prophecy in the Adirondacks 23 

CHAPTER III. 

Under Fire 36 

CHAPTER IV. 

Tommy Meets an Old Enemy 48 

CHAPTER Y. 

Mercedes 64 

5 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Tommy Collins to the Rescue 85 

CHAPTER VII. 

San Juan Hill 98 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Santiago 117 

CHAPTER IX. 

Hacienda Martinez 128 

CHAPTER X. 


Home. 


148 


THE YOUNG COLOR GUARD ; 

OR, 

Tommy Collins at Santiago. 

CHAPTER I. 

ON TO CUBA ! 

With the assistance of his old frontier 
friend, Mickey Flannigan, head packer on the 
mule train which accompanied Shatter’s Fifth 
Army Corps to Cuba, our hero, young Thomas 
Collins, musician and private of G Company, 
Thirty-first U. S. Infantry, managed to disobey 
his Colonel’s order to remain behind at Tampa 
when the Thirty-first embarked for Cuba. 
Young Collins had succeeded in stowing himself 
away on Transport Yo. 22, which carried the 
packers and mules of the famous Cheyenne 
pack mule train, and he only came out of his 
7 


8 


On to Cuba! 


hiding-place when the huge fleet of troop-ships 
and men-of-war had got out so far there was 
no danger of his being returned to land. 

The second morning out, as Colonel Tennant, 
of the Thirty-flrst, sat well aft on Transport 
No. 20, enjoying his after breakfast cigar in 
the company of his adjutant, young Mr. Brown- 
son, they noticed quite a stir and commotion 
aboard the ship immediately in their wake, and 
saw a young bugler jump up on a tall pile of 
boxes and bales, and after waving his campaign 
hat in cheerful general recognition toward the 
ship carrying the Thirty-flrst, sounded the stir- 
ring air of Arrah, Go On ! a tune which the 
officers and men of the Thirty-first regarded as 
peculiarly their own. Whereupon the Colonel of 
the Thirty-first exclaimed in great excitement 
to Mr. Brownson: 

I believe that young rascal Tommy Collins 
has followed us to Cuba.” 

He has, sir,” responded that young officer. 


On to Cuba! 


9 


cheerfully; for he, too, knew the familiar boy- 
ish figure in the musician’s uniform. 

It was at this momentous crisis in his career 
that we left our young hero in ^^Eecruit 
Tommy Collins.^" 

For a moment Colonel Tennant was disposed 
to be angry at the young culprit; but the sea 
and sky were so blue, the water smooth as glass, 
the breakfast had been not half bad, and his 
cigar was the best to be had in Tampa, and 
Tommy’s bugle was sounding out so cheerily 
the dear old tune, as if begging the Colonel to 
forgive the player. 

Suddenly, the Colonel laughed, and said, 
rather ruefully: I’ll never dare face his 
mother; Brownson, you’ll have to make my 
peace with Mollie Collins. The young rascal. 
I only hope he wrote and told his mother of this 
prank he meant to play.” 

Which was exactly what Master Tommy had 
done, assuring his mother that it was no one’s 


10 


On to Cuba! 


fault but his own. Never a word did he say of 
his old friend Mickey Flannigan, remembering 
well his mother’s old distrust of this fascinating 
friendship. The music of the bugle ceased, and 
instantly the men of the Thirty-first, who had 
crowded the gunwales of their transport, set up 
a hearty cheer. They, too, had recognized the 
young bugler, who was a prime favorite with 
them all. 

Come over and see us. Tommy,” When 
did you jine the mule brigade ? ” Come over 
and be a soldier agin,” were the somewhat de- 
risive cries which greeted Tommy; but the boy 
only laughed good-naturedly, and shouted back 
a reply which could not be heard. 

Just then a tall, fine-looking old Sergeant 
appeared upon the scene. It was Collins Se- 
nior, who had hurried out to see what all the 
commotion was about. WTien the men explained 
to him that his son was aboard the mule trans- 
port, the old fellow exclaimed, in almost the 


On to Cuba! 


11 


same words as the Colonel himself had : 1^11 

never dare face his mother after this. 1^11 be 
bound that Mickey Flannigan is at the bottom 
of it.’^ 

Meantime the culprit was thoroughly enjoy- 
ing life aboard the mule-ship. The packers 
were a hardy, adventurous set of frontiersmen; 
men who could vie with the veriest old salt in 
interesting and marvelous tales. Every evening 
Tommy would play for them on his banjo, and 
sing the latest popular ^^coon^^ songs. Then 
the men would contribute their share to the 
general entertainment by a series of yarns, each 
one more thrilling and bloodthirsty than the 
last. 

No one knew where the expedition was bound 
for, and various were the surmises and bets 
made as to their probable destination. It was 
rumored that no one save General Shatter and 
the naval officer in command of the fleet knew 
for what port the Fifth Corps was sailing. This 


12 


On to Cuba! 


fact gave a delightful feeling, of mystery and 
uncertainty to the otherwise somewhat monoto- 
nous voyage. 

The week slipped slowly by, and on Saturday 
the great . fleet came up with the Indiana.’^ 
She gallantly dressed ship ” in honor of the 
General commanding, the army ship respond- 
ing to the courtesy by dipping her colors. 

Sunday came. Tommy retired to his bunk 
and read his Mass prayers. He knew his mother 
was praying for him in the beautiful church at 
home. She must have got his letter by this 
time, telling her of his departure. It would 
grieve her terribly; Tommy knew that well. 
His eyes were wet with sudden tears, and he 
stumbled over the familiar prayers. 

The group around the fo’c’s’le that evening 
was somewhat subdued ; they even sang a hymn 
or two with banjo accompaniment; but as the 
hymns did not go ” well they compromised on 
the “ Swanee Kiver,” sung slowly and solemnly. 


On to Cuba! 


13 


No one knew what the morrow would bring, for 
the fleet was sailing off the Cuban coast, bound 
for Santiago, rumor now said. 

When Tommy woke up very early the follow- 
ing morning he found the wide expanse of 
white-capped gray ocean had given place to a 
sea of turquois blue. The scenery as they 
sailed slowly along the coast was very beautiful ; 
hills of the brightest green, threaded with shin- 
ing streams, which seemed to rise abruptly 
from the blue sea and meet an even bluer sky. 
Tommy was so fascinated with the novel and 
beautiful scene before him that he could not 
spare the time to go below and eat his breakfast. 
He was so afraid of missing something that he 
begged Mickey to bring him his rations. 

Youfll know better, my boy, when you’re a 
bit older. No scenery, as you call land and 
water, is worth going widout your breakfast,” 
said the old fellow, as he handed the boy a gen- 
erous plate of bacon and beans, and balanced 


14 


On to Cuba! 


on the ship’s railing the huge tin cnp which 
holds a soldier’s coffee ration. 

There they are ! There they are, Mickey ! ” 
cried Tommy, in sudden great excitement, near- 
ly knocking over the precious coffee. 

What are yon talking about, anyway ? ” re- 
plied the old fellow, somewhat testily. 

Tommy’s keen young eyes had spied in the 
distance a few black sticks, standing out promi- 
nently against the sky. 

^^Why Sampson’s bottling fleet! Hurrah! 
Hurrah!” 

The ten days of almost unendurable mon- 
otony were over ; the invading Army had 
reached safely its destination off Santiago. 

^^Did ye iver hear tell o’ that town before. 
Tommy ? ” asked his friend Mickey. 

I’ve heard the name before this,” responded 
that young man, cautiously. The regimental 
band plays the ^ Santiago Waltz.’ ” 

Waltz, is it ? ” replied Mickey, with a flne 


On to Cuba! 


16 


air of scorn ; we^ll soon be making thim San- 
tiago’^ (he pronounced it Santy-ay-go) '^fel- 
lers dance to another tune.” 

^^You bet your life, we will! We’ll give 
’em a hot time before we get through with 
them.” And Tommy seized his banjo and be- 
gan to sing a Hot Time.” A dozen voices had 
joined before the chorus was reached, and the 
air fairly rang with the stirring melody, 
which actually became the campaign tune of the 
army at Santiago. 

In the maneuvering of the fleet before dis- 
embarking, Tommy had lost all track of the 
transport which carried the Thirty-first, so per- 
force he was obliged to throw in his fortunes 
with the teamsters and packers of the mule 
trains, which were unloaded at Daiquirie. 

There was great difficulty in landing the 
mules, but this was well and safely accom- 
plished by swimming them ashore, and as they 
emerged from the water they were caught and 


16 


On to Cuba! 


tied to a rope stretched along the beach. The 
packers themselves carried ashore the aparehos 
(pack saddles) and other articles belonging to 
the train, Tommy doing his fnll share of help- 
ing, though every once in awhile he would go 
in search of his lost regiment ; but no one appar- 
ently knew anything of the Thirty-first. 

The principal train of twenty mules and the 
bell mare, with fifteen packers, had been as- 
signed to old Flanhigan as the best and most 
experienced packer of them all. He and 
Tommy were sharing their blankets and ra- 
tions. They had discovered a large, fiat rock 
under the shade of a big palm tree, on which 
they spread straw and dried grass, making a 
fairly comfortable bed. They had rustled’’ 
the half of a shelter tent also, to help keep off 
the terrific tropical rain, which had already 
fallen two nights running. 

Late in the evening of June 23, a tall, fine- 
looking young Eough Eider Sergeant had rid- 


On to Cuba! 


17 


den up to Mickey Flannigan^s headquarters 
tent, and whispered eagerly and confidentially 
in the old fellow’s ear. Tommy was all on fire 
with curiosity and anticipation, but Mickey was 
singularly non-communicative. Very little could 
the boy get out of him, save that the Sergeant 
had brought an order for Flannigan’s train to 
move forward before dawn to the Rough Riders’ 
camp, some nine miles to the front. 

What was that Sergeant’s name, Mickey ? ” 
queried Tommy. 

How wud I be knowin’ ? He’s one o’ thim 
young swells as is looking fer a new kind o’ fun. 
I’ve heered his name, but I disremember it now. 
His father’s a millionaire, so they say.” 

Did you notice he wore a little silver St. 
Joseph hanging from his leather watch chain? ” 
asked Tommy. 

^^Did he that: ” Mickey returned. ^^Well, 
I know his name, then, for I heered the story of 
it yisterday. He’s young Schuyler Van Dusen, 


18 


On to Cuba! 


an^ I kin tell yon how he comes to be wearing 
that little statute o^ St. Joseph. The day they 
landed the Artillery young Van Dusen hap- 
pened to be near the beach, and when one of the 
caisson teams ran away, and a small Filipino kid 
got right in front of the horses, who were half- 
crazed with their terrible voyage there, he made 
a run and a jump of it, and somehow landed 
safe, with the kid yelling for all it was worth, 
on the other side of the road. The kid’s mother 
had seen the hull thing, and she came up weep- 
ing and thanking him. She actually knelt 
down and tried to kiss his hands. But young 
Van kicked at that, o’ course. So then she up 
and tore off her neck that little figger o’ St. Jo- 
seph you saw dangling on his watch-chain. The 
feller that saw the hull thing — ^he understands 
’nuiff o’ their lingo to make out what she says 
to the dude Rough Rider — says, it was somethin’ 
to the effect that so long as he wore the little 
image he would be safe from all dangers. And 


On to Cuba! 


19 


the men L troop say their Sergeant is awful 
keerfnl of that little statute/^ 

Neither Tom nor Flannigan had much sleep 
the rest of the night, and long before the bril- 
liant tropical sun had risen over the green hill- 
tops, the crack mule train was off to the front. 

Although not yet dawn it was frightfully hot. 
At every little stream the packers would drink 
their fill, keeping their canteens in reserve. The 
mules were suffering from the heat, and yet 
Flannigan urged them on with curious eager- 
ness. 

Tommy was riding the bell mare, Jenny, 
well in the lead. 

Keep a good lookout for thim bloody Span- 
iards, my boy,^^ Mickey had cautioned him, and 
also provided him with a big cavalry pistol, as 
were all the packers and teamsters. Tommy, 
being a musician, did not carry a rifle. 

Is it a fight you’re hurrying us into, Mickey 
Flannigan ? ” questioned the young soldier, eag- 


20 


On to Cuba! 


erly. But not a word on the subject of his orders 
could he get from his old friend, who was so 
unusually silent and taciturn that Tommy re- 
marked sarcastically : Mickey, you’re so afraid 
of letting out your secret, you don’t dare speak 
at all.” 

From the moment the Fifth Army Corps was 
disembarked in Cuba, it was rumored that there 
was great rivalry among the different Division 
Commanders as to which should strike the first 
blow at the enemy. If this were rumored of the 
officers it was true, of the men of the command. 
Every soldier was determined that his regiment 
should be the first to draw blood, as they ex- 
pressed it. The general feeling among the offi- 
cers and men of the line was that there would 
in all probability be only one big fight, hence 
their desire and anxiety to be in it; for those 
not actively engaged would not have the longed- 
for opportunity to display their valor in battle, 
and win that glory which is a true soldier’s suf- 


On to Cuba! 


21 


ficient recompense for all the hardships and suf- 
ferings of a campaign. 

It was barely five o^clock when Flannigan’s 
mule-train reached the beautiful little cocoanut 
grove in which the Eough Riders had pitched 
their camp. The camp was practically de- 
serted, and a few eager questions from old Flan- 
nigan to the two or three troopers on guard dis- 
closed the fact that two squadrons of the Rough 
Riders and one squadron each of the Tenth and 
First Cavalry had gone to the front on a re- 
connaissance. Hearing this. Tommy pushed on 
to the front, determined that the Thirty-first 
should have one representative in what was 
likely to be the first fight on Cuban soil. 

The so-called road over which he hurried was 
merely an open trail, bordered closely on either 
side with dense tropical foliage, which kept off 
every breath of air. Not a living being did the 
boy meet, nor the sign of one, for some little 
time; then suddenly he came on a discarded 


22 


On to Cuba! 


blouse, and from that time on the way was 
strewn with them ; blanket rolls, knapsacks, blue 
shirts, the road was lined with them. Tommy 
had already made his plans ; he would get into 
action with L troop (Capron’s), for he knew the 
Dolan boys would see him through. 


CHAPTER II. 


A PROPHECY IN THE ADIRONDACKS. 

The thermometer stood at forty degrees be- 
low zero; the white snow drifted into small 
mountains, covering hill and valley; the pines 
stood up tall and stiff, as if frozen into their 
erect position, yet sending out their sweet, balmy 
odors in spite of the intense cold. Over all a 
brilliant winter sun was shining, giving the nec- 
essary touch of color to the otherwise too daz- 
zling whiteness of the snow and somber green 
of the woods. 

The sun parlor of St. Josephus Sanitarium 
for Consumptives was occupied this particular 
morning in early December by numerous in- 
valids of all sorts and conditions. Off at the 
extreme end, as if to avoid all contact with his 
fellow-sufferers, in a large steamer chair, en- 
23 


24 A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 

veloped in the costliest of fur rags, lay a young 
man of nineteen or twenty. His face, worn and 
thin now with some recent severe illness, also 
showing signs of a dissipated reckless life, was 
oddly in contrast with his hnge frame. He was 
certainly six feet tall, and of broad, athletic pro- 
portions. He lay absolutely still, with closed 
eyes smoking one cigarette after another. 

My son, you will disobey your physician, 
but you shall not disobey me,^^ said a sweet yet 
stern voice over his shoulder. At the same time 
the half-smoked cigarette was quietly yet firmly 
taken from his languid hand. 

The young fellow laughed. I never dis- 
obey you Mother, when I know you are around, 
and you can see me; but this time you caught 
me napping.” The tall, stately, venerable fig- 
ure of the Mother Superior, draped in the 
gracef ul, clinging habit of her order, her saintly 
face framed in the quaint, flaring white head- 
dress of the Sisters of Charity, seemed to call 


A Prophecy in the Adirondaclcs. 25 

up in the young man^s mind a bitter train of 
thought. 

You don’t know what bad habits are, 
Mother, and how hard they are to break off. My 
whole life has been one of bad habits. I’ve been 
going to the devil ever since I was a little kid.” 
He broke off abruptly with a hard, little laugh. 

There, I’ve shocked you, and I didn’t mean 
to, either.” 

Hot shocked me, my poor boy ; but you pain 
me.” 

There is not much of the sin and evil of ihis 
world that I do not know.” 

He stirred uneasily and flushed a dark red, 
while he stammered awkwardly : I’ve heard 
your story. Mother, you know. You were a 
plucky one, by Jove; with such a beastly lot 
of trouble, too.” 

^Ht is past, however; we will not discuss it 
now,” she replied, with a somewhat distant man- 
ner and a trace of old world haughtiness. 


26 A Prophecy in the AdirondacTcs, 

^^You are so like my Jules, young sir, the 
little brother whom I brought up, that you have 
crept into my heart ; and I have asked our good 
St. Joseph to care for you as he did for my 
Jules.^^ 

“ Was Jules that tall, handsome Prussian 
staff officer whose photograph I have seen in 
your sanctum. Mother ? ” 

No; that is my nephew. Count von H . 

Yes, he is handsome; is he not?^^ she asked, 
with innocent pride. 

He was very like you, dear Mother,’^ replied 
the boy, with tender gallantry. 

It was a bitter lesson God gave me to learn, 
and I learned it with wild despair, defiance and 
revolt. He alone knows what infinite patience 
it took to teach me to carry my cross to Calvary. 
I had lived my life and ended it, so far as the 
world is concerned, long before you were born, 
my son; and the hitter fruit of the tree of 
knowledge I know now was given to me to eat 


A Prophecy in the Adirondacfcs. 27 

that I might help perishing souls — souls for 
whom our Lord gave His life, not grudging 
the sacrifice even to the last drop of His 
blood.” 

The grave, sweet, pleading voice of the stately 
old nun, with its slight touch of foreign accent, 
seemed to penetrate the armor of cool indiffer- 
ence and bored apathy with which the boy had 
endeavored to envelop himself. 

He would never dare to pay his old arts 
in the convent. Such audacious compliments 
the Mother returned with mock severity. 

Young Van Dusen laughed a frank, hearty, 
boyish laugh, the very first Mother St. Joseph 
had heard from those young lips since the boy 
had been under her care. 

It is because we Americans are so apprecia- 
tive, dear Mother; it makes us seem audacious 
sometimes.” 

The hearty laugh had somehow smoothed 
away all the evil lines in the boy’s handsome 


28 A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 

face ; the lines made by late hours and a life of 
dissipation. 

Mother laid her hand gently on the boy’s 
brown curls and said : I want to see you in my 
office after supper this evening, my son; some 
one has sent me for ^ St. J oseph’s Orphans ’ a 
generous check. I have my suspicions ; but you 
are going to help me find out the donor, so that 
we may all, sisters and orphans, pray for our 
unknown benefactor.” 

Oh, I say. Mother,” he protested. But the 
nun only smiled, shook her finger at him, and 
disappeared around the corner of the piazza. 

Mother Joseph’s history certainly was roman- 
tic and out of the ordinary. She was the eldest 
daughter of a distinguished, wealthy Prussian 
noble. Left by the early death of her mother 
to assume charge of her father’s numerous 
estates when only a girl of fifteen, and to give 
a motherly care to her three younger brothers, 
one a baby a few months old. 


A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 29 

Though one of the most beautiful and accom- 
plished women at the German Court, the young 
girl for fifteen years devoted herself to her fam- 
ily; but, sad to say, her love and devotion were 
but illy repaid. The two older brothers, one 
after another, had sown a terrible crop of wild 
oats, were involved in open scandals which 
brought low the pride of their ancient house, 
. and broke the heart of the proud old noble their 
father. The hopes of both father and daughter 
were centered in the youngest boy, who was all 
they could desire, handsome, intelligent, noble 
in heart and mind. He received an appoint- 
ment on the Emperor’s personal staff on leaving 
the university, and about this time the beauti- 
ful Theresa was betrothed to the Duke von 

H who had been her suitor many years. 

The call to arms in the Franco-Prussian war 
saw all three of her dear ones, father, brother 
and betrothed, in the field. Theresa herself was 
at the head of the charitable organization which 


30 A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 

the German Government instituted under the 
personal supervision of the Empress Augusta 
for the relief of the German subjects who were 
prisoners in France. 

Then came the day of the battle of Sedan, in 
which French and Germans were mowed down 
like grass. And what proved to be a glorious 
victory for her country brought only horror 
and desolation to Theresa. All three — father, 
brother and beloved — ^had been killed on that 
awful day. 

This much of Mother Joseph’s history was 
publicly known, and it was of this the young 
man was thinking after she had left him. She 
walks like a duchess, now,” he mused, ^^and 
she can talk like one if you offend her; and 
yet she is so good, so humble, that her paupers 
are not one-half as much afraid of her as I am.” 

That evening after supper the Mother Su- 
perior welcomed him with a smile and a cheery, 
I feel sure now, my son, we have found out 


A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 31 

our mysterious benefactor of the past two years. 
Come, now, confess, and begin two years ago, 
when my poor children in the ^ slums,^ as you 
call it, and their little orphan charges were 
freezing, when coal for the winter suddenly ap- 
peared.” 

Young Van Dusen laughed. Yes, and Sis- 
ter Mary Angela put poor St. J oseph in the coal 
cellar to hurry up matters.” 

Mother looked astonished, as well she might. 

Oh, I’ll confess, now I’m caught,” the boy 
said, mischievously. It was late one Decem- 
ber afternoon two years ago, and I was coming 
back from an errand in the ^ slums,’ as you 
rightly say we call it, to a college fellow, 
friend of mine, down on his luck,” Van Dusen 
explained briefly, but Mother nodded with a 
pleased look. It was nearly dark, when right 
ahead of me came two of your Sisters in 
their queer rig— Oh, I beg your pardon.” But 
the Superior only laughed genially. 


32 A Prophecy in the AdirondacJcs. 

When little Sister Mary opened the door for 
ns the day I was carried in here on that litter I 
knew her at once. Her face is jnst like a ^ fam- 
euse ’ apple nipped by the frost, so round, rosy 
and wrinkled.^’ 

Mother^s eyes twinkled. The description of 
the little lay Sister’s ancient visage was so apt. 

Yes, young sir; and to carry your comparison 
a little deeper. Sister Mary is as good and sweet 
as that famous apple. How continue your con- 
fession.” 

Well, the two Sisters hurrying through the 
cold and darkness were earnestly discussing the 
straits their convent was in — no flour, no pota- 
toes, and, worst of all, no coal in this bitter 
December weather. It was Sister Mary who 
threatened to put poor St. Joseph in the coal 
cellar if he did not hurry up and come to their 
rescue.” 

Dear little Sister Mary. She has the faith 
of a child, so simple and so sure, and she is ter- 


A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 33 

ribly afraid of the dark cellar with its possi- 
bility of rats.” 

Well, you know, Mother, I couldn’t think 
of poor St. Joseph having to undergo such a 
punishment — he is my patron saint; did you 
know it? My first name is Joseph. So I fol- 
lowed them home to find out where the con- 
vent was, and a terrible old tenement it was. 
And then I — eh, well, I sent them a few 
things.” 

There was a very sweet look in Mother’s face 
as she gently patted the boy’s tremulous white 
hand. Yes, my dear boy ; yes, I remember 
well the few things, and the astonishment of 
good Sister Angela when she opened the door 
next morning to find the huge coal wagons 
standing there, while the big driver said to her, 
laughing, ^ From St. Joseph, ma’am.’ ” 

That was just my joke. Mother,” and young 
Van Dusen looked a bit ashamed. 

^^Not at all,” returned the nun, decidedly; 


34 A Prophecy in the Adirondachs. 

it was from St. J oseph. And all the generous 
gifts we have had since, marked ^ From St. Jo- 
seph/ we have you to thank for.^^ Truly the 
good Sister thought, “ God’s ways are not ours,” 
for the slight, boyish face was so deeply marked 
by a long course of evil living and reckless ad- 
ventures. 

I wish you would say a little prayer to our 
good Saint,” the Superior began, but the boy 
interrupted her impatiently, almost rudely : I 
never pray; I’ve forgotten how.” 

I will pray for you then, my son,” was the 
gentle reply ; that as you have been so good to 
the children of St. J oseph while living, the good 
Saint will not forget you when death comes to 
you.” 

Don’t talk of death. Mother dear,” the poor 
fellow protested, with a shudder. 

^^Yet, my son, it will claim you, in your 
youth, and you will meet it bravely.” There 
was a strange look on the saintly, venerable face. 


A Prophecy in the Adirondachs, 35 

Her eyes were closed, and she spoke as if to her- 
self. 

He will receive the baptism of blood. Lord, 
I thank Thee; Thy mercy is infinite. 

The boy stared at her with awe and fear ; bnt 
presently she opened her eyes as if nnconscions 
that she had spoken. 

% 4: ♦ ♦ * 

As the stalwart young cavalry man marched 
by the side of L troop that hot June morning 
this scene, this conversation, came to his mind 
so vividly he could not put it from him. 


CHAPTEE III. 


UNDER FIRE. 

It was half-past seven by Tommy’s big one- 
dollar watch, when he struck a trail running 
off at a sharp angle from the main road. For 
an instant he hesitated which one to take, then 
a sudden thought struck him. He picked up a 
discarded haversack on the main road. It was 
marked Tenth U. S. Cavalry.” A Blouse near- 
by had a crossed saber and First U. S..” Yes; 
the regulars had marched this way, so he pushed 
forward over the rough path in the jungle which 
ran off to the left; the Eough Eiders — or 
Wood’s Weary Walkers,” as the regulars jeer- 
ingly called them now that they had been dis- 
mounted — ^had evidently taken this trail. It 
must have been close on to nine o’clock when 
our young hero heard in front of him a bugle 
36 


Under Fire. 


37 


call, and with the sound of the bugle came a 
crashing volley to his left. The thick jungle 
seemed alive with the sharp hiss of bullets, 
which Tommy soon learned to associate with 

Mausers.’^ 

With his heart thumping like a steam-engine, 
dodging from these bullets which came from no- 
where, breathless with fatigue, excitement, and, 
yes, fright. Tommy crawled through the almost 
impassable undergrowth to his left. He heard 
the voices of officers giving commands, the 
sharp crack of the Krags,” as the Rough 
Riders began to return the enemy’s fire. Still 
he saw no one as yet. As he came into an open 
space he saw, lying very still, a blue-shirted 
figure; a campaign hat had fallen across the 
silent rifie, the white upturned face looked calm 
and peaceful. 

It was the boy’s first sight of death in the 
battlefield. No wonder his eyes were wet with 
sudden tears, nor that his voice choked as he 


38 


Under Fire. 


whispered a prayer for the departed soul. He 
covered the dead face with the campaign hat, 
then, taking the soldier’s rifle and ammunition 
belt, pushed on anew to the left, from which 
position the firing now came regularly. 

Presently, not twenty yards off, he caught 
sight of three or four young cavalrymen, in 
charge of the tall, handsome Sergeant who had 
brought Mickey his orders the night before. 

The troopers were spread out some distance 
apart, using the thick jungle grass as a protec- 
tion from the bullets of the still invisible enemy. 

It is L troop,” Tommy thought, exultingly, 
as he ran forward quickly and dropped into line. 
No one noticed him, and soon he, too, was firing 
away as steadily as any old veteran. 

Very good, men,” the Sergeant called out; 
don’t waste your fire.” He stood there calmly 
a moment, shading his eyes with his hands, as if 
to pierce the jungle and find out whence came 
the storm of bullets. He wasn’t ten feet from 


Under Fire. 


39 


Tommy, who was gazing with intent admiration 
at the man who stood there so coolly. Suddenly 
Tommy’s eyes wandered to the Sergeant’s 
watchguard. The quaint little figure of St. Jo- 
seph was gone. 

Sir, your St. Joseph is gone,” Tommy cried, 
warningly. Even as he spoke the tall figure 
swayed slightly, and the Sergeant clasped his 
hand to his breast, exclaiming, I’m hit ! ” 
Tommy caught him as he fell. 

God forgive — St. Joseph, pray — ” a gush 
of blood from the mouth cut short forever that 
stammering prayer for mercy. 

Reverently his men laid him beneath a tall 
palm, and young Dolan, between shots, said 
aloud a prayer for the dead Sergeant. The 
brave, roystering young aristocrat bad died with 
a prayer on his lips. 

“Tommy Collins! bow came you here?” 
young Dolan asked, in utter amazement. 

“ Walked,” was Tommy’s nonchalant reply. 


40 


Under Fire. 


They were advancing slowly np the crest of 
the thickly-wooded hill before them. It was 
difficult work getting . over the rough ground, 
covered with sharp cactus bushes and needle- 
like guinea grass. L troop was now deployed 
as skirmishers, and along the crest of the hill 
down their line came Captain Capron cheering 
his men; tall, handsome, the very beau-ideal 
of a cavalry leader. His men worshiped him. 
Looking at him as he stood there, coolly direct- 
ing the fire of his men, no one could have 
guessed that the brave young leader was 
troubled. But he knew that L troop was in a 
precarious position. In obedience to orders they 
had advanced rapidly, and were in a position of 
almost isolation. For nearly half an hour be- 
fore reinforcements came up, in full view of the 
Spanish entrenchments, they were pouring in 
a very effective fire on the enemy. 

As he reached Tommy Captain Capron 
paused : My lad, what are you doing here ? 


Under Fire. 


41 


An infantryman, too! What regiment do you 
belong to ? 

“ Please, sir, the Thirty-first. IVe lost them, 
and I wanted to be in the very first fight ; and I 
know Tim Dolan, sir, of L troop,” indicating his 
friend Corporal Dolan, lying alongside of him. 

The young officer smiled. Look after the 
boy. Corporal,” he said, kindly, as he moved on. 

Yes, sir,” answered the Corporal. Then a 
look of horror came over his face. Oh, my 
Godlhe^s hit!” 

Alas, it was only too true. A dozen troopers 
rushed to the aid of their beloved leader, whose 
gallant young figure had fallen to the ground. 

The tears were running down the cheeks of 
those great rough men as they gently lifted their 
Captain to bear him to the rear. But he shook 
his head. No, men; place me here,” pointing 
to a tall tree nearby. I want to see this thing 
out. YouNe put up a good fight ; no men could 
have done better. I^m proud of you.” 


42 


Under Fire. 


They propped the dying soldier up, so that he 
could see the firing line, and then they left him, 
all save Tommy, who knelt by his side, to see 
the thing out.” And so he did, and when he 
died a little later he had seen that desperate 
charge down the valley and up to the hill 
against the Spanish stronghold, which won the 
day. As their Captain heard that yell, which 
rang from end to end of the line, he smiled 
faintly and murmured, Charge ! ” and so he 
met his end, brave and cool as a soldier should. 
Tommy knelt quietly by the dead officer until 
the Surgeon came hurrying up to give his aid; 
but Captain Allyn Capron was beyond all 
human aid; his gallant, soldierly soul had an- 
swered to the final Taps.” 

* * * 4: 4c 

The Thirty-first, just landed, were going into 
camp alongside the main road into Siboney, 
when Tommy on a big pack mule came dashing 
down the road. Catching sight of the Colonel’s 


Under Fire, 


43 


tall, commanding figure, Tommy rode straight 
to him. 

The boy’s face was white and drawn, his 
eyes had a peculiar strained look of horror; he 
was shaking with excitement as he gasped out 
incoherently something about a fight at Las 
Guasimas and Eough Eiders. As he stammered 
out his tale, down the road came a mournful 
procession bearing the wounded, the more se- 
rious of them on improvised litters, while many 
were walking assisted by their comrades. Every 
man in the infantry camp stood with -bared head 
while the ghastly procession went by them. Sud- 
denly, as if by command, a hoarse, sudden cheer 
went up, a tribute from the dough boys ” to 
the heroes of the first fight on Cuban soil. 
Tommy had to tell the story of the fight and his 
share in it over and over to new audiences until 
the regimental Surgeon interfered, and sending 
for Sergeant Collins, ordered him to keep the 
boy quiet for the remaindei of the day. But this 


44 


Under Fire. 


was an impossible task, so all day Tommy lay 
in state in Mr. Brownson’s hammock, one of 
three which the entire regiment possessed, tell- 
ing his thrilling story to his comrades, who felt 
very proud that the Thirty-first had been rep- 
resented in the very first scrap agin the Dons.’^ 
After dark Mickey Flannigan rode unobtru- 
sively into the Thirty-first’s camp. He wanted 
to avoid meeting any of the officers and Ser- 
geant Collins. The truth was, however, that 
every one of them was feeling so proud of their 
young soldier that night that old Flannigan 
would have been heartily forgiven for his share 
in Tommy’s coming to Cuba. 

You’ll win ’em yet, me boy,” the old packer 
whispered, tapping Tommy’s shoulder on the 
spot where the shoulder strap rests. It won’t 
be long afore I’m a saluting of you and saying, 
^Yes, Lef tenant; No, Lef tenant. ’ ” 

Tommy smiled incredulously, but looked 
pleased nevertheless. 


Under Fire. 


45 


"It was awful though, Mickey,’^ with that 
nervous tremor in his voice which had caused 
the doctor to order rest and quiet for the boy. 

" Our Sergeant, the St. Joseph fellow, you 
know, Mickey; I saw him die, and he’d lost his 
little statue.’^ 

"Yes; I know,^^ returned Flannigan; "one 
of his company tould me.” 

" I found the little silver charm not ten feet 
from where he fell,” said Tommy. " I will give 
it to Colonel Eoosevelt when I get a chance to 
send to his mother; she^s a great swell, but aw- 
ful fond of this boy, though he was a bit wild,” 
said Tommy, slipping the little St. Joseph on 
his leather watch-chain. 

" He died praying though, Mickey,” he con- 
tinued, in a low, hushed voice. He had told this 
part of the day’s incidents to no one, but now 
he repeated the dying Sergeant’s broken prayer 
to his old friend who was interested he knew. 

"I think his mother would like to know 


46 


Under Fire, 


that/^ said the old Irishman presently. " You 
write it out and 1^11 give it to ^ Colonel 
Teddy ’ mesilf, and explain it. And the other 
one, Captain Allyn Capron, the hoys tell me he 
died game. Oh, but my heart is heavy for that 
death. In my opinion. Tommy, the hull outfit, 
greasers and niggers, ain’t worth one good 
young American like Capron. God rest his 
soul ! ” 

Well, we come, Mickey, you know, for the 
cause of common humanity.” 

Humanity be hanged,” growled the old 
teamster. It’s ^Remember the Maine!* as 
brought me, and it’s that, too, that is going to be 
the slogan of the men of the Fifth Corps. Hu- 
manity ain’t in it at all,” growled Flannigan in 
disgust. 

And there is hut little doubt that the sturdy 
old packer voiced the sentiments of the rank and 
file of Shafter’s Army. 

That evening a big Eough Eider Sergeant 


Under Fire. 


47 


walked into the Artillery camp and asked for 
Captain Caprones Light Battery. 

The man was the First Sergeant of Captain 
Allyn Capron’s troop, and he had come on a ter- 
ribly sad errand. 

The grim, gray-haired old Artillery Captain 
was pacing slowly up and down in front of his 
guns when the big trooper paused, saluted and 
then blurted out with a half sob : Sir, I\9 
brought you awful news ! ” 

“ Out with it, my man,’’ cried the old officer, 
but he knew before the man spoke. 

Your son was killed this morning at Las 
Guasimas.” 

Two slow tears trickled down the veteran’s 
cheeks, then he grit his teeth and said quietly: 
“ I’ll make these Spanish devils suffer for this.” 
And all that night the old Artillery man paced 
up and down before his guns. 


CHAPTER IV. 


TOMMY MEETS AN OLD ENEMY. 

After the first fight at Las Guasimas was 
over the excitement and war talk subsided 
abruptly; the food problem had become a very 
serious one, and the men of the Fifth Corps 
were absorbed in the struggle for their daily ra- 
tions. 

The Thirty-first had been landed from the 
transport with their luggage on their backs; 
all they had they carried. Of course, Colonel 
Tennant was iuformed that his tent and the 
men’s and officers’ baggage would be sent ashore 
at once, but it wasn’t, and in fact most of it was 
never seen until they got to Montauk, and some 
of it never turned up at all. 

Each officer and man in the regiment was 
given three days’ rations, which officers as well 
48 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 49 

as the men carried in their haversacks, and this 
three days was the only time while they were 
in Cuba that the Thirty-first got its full ra- 
tions. 

The year before the President’s wife had pre- 
sented the Thirty-first with a beautiful silk 
national standard. This flag the Thirty-first 
was intensely proud of and guarded with the 
greatest care. It was kept in Colonel Tennant’s 
tent, or, rather, under the bit of ragged shelter 
tent, which was all the habitation the Colonel 
boasted of; he was no whit better off than his 
men. Old Collins, Tommy’s father, was Regi- 
mental Color Sergeant, besides which there was 
another non-commissioned officer, Sergeant 
Hanlon, and two younger soldiers, privates, as 
color guard. 

Each morning in camp the colors were 
planted in front of the headquarters tent, which 
military courtesy designated the Colonel’s bit 
of dirty, moldy canvas, and each night they 


50 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 

were put to bed/^ as the men call it, with due 
pomp and ceremony, the old Sergeant standing 
stiffly at attention,’^ while the buglers played 
Eetreat.” At the finishing note he would give 
the hand salute, and then safely ^^case’’ the 
colors for the night. 

The morning after the Las Guasimas fight 
the Adjutant met Tommy as he was returning 
from sounding reveille. 

Colonel Tennant wants you to report to 
him after breakfast. Tommy,” said Mr. Bently. 

So our hero, after brushing himself up as 
much as the exigencies of the situation would 
permit, when not even the officers had brush, 
towel or soap, made his way promptly to Colonel 
Tennant’s tent, wondering much what he was in 
for. There were several officers standing in 
front of the Colonel’s tent, and every one of 
them had something kind to say to the young 
soldier who stood before them at attention,” 
but blushing and very much embarrassed at the 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 51 

hearty praise of his officers, who were all im- 
mensely pleased that the Thirty-first had been 
represented in that first sharp encounter on 
Cuban soil ; for that the boy had done well they 
were all agreed. 

Colonel Tennant was very busy, and only kept 
Tommy a moment while he spoke a few warm 
words of commendation, which went straight to 
the boy’s heart. And now, my lad,” concluded 
the Colonel, I have appointed you Color 
Guard. The Adjutant is making out the de- 
tail now, and one of the guards has been sent to 
the hospital. I place you particularly in charge 
of our colors, my lad, your father is old and not 
strong; help him with the care of them, and 
carry them, when he will allow it, while we are 
on the march. You’ve been born and brought 
up in the Thirty-first, Tommy; see that when 
we go into action our colors are at the front, 
and keep them thereT 

This was all, but Tommy strode proudly back 


52 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy, 

to camp, the happiest boy in Cuba at that mo- 
ment. 

That evening after the usual supper, and a 
scant one at that, of hard bread and bacon, he 
walked up the trail a mile or so to find Flanni- 
gan, and tell him of his promotion. 

Passing up and down this main road, several 
rough, small trails had often caught Tommy^s 
eyes. They had invariably led, when he had 
been curious enough to explore them, to a small 
native hut or collection of huts ; but to-night a 
road which led off in the direction of Santiago 
caught his attention, which had entirely escaped 
his notice before. It was far from being the al- 
most impassable rough trail which the Cubans 
called roads, and so marked them on their mili- 
tary maps. This road had been well laid out, 
and, although showing signs of recent neglect, 
the overarching palm tree still formed an ave- 
nue which must lead to something more im- 
portant than a native village. Of this Tommy 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 53 

was instantly convinced ; so he determined npon 
a bit of exploring on his own account. 

The broad avenue terminated abruptly in a 
large, grassy oval, planted with strange tropi- 
cal flowers and overgrown, neglected shrubs; 
here and there a broken and dilapidated statue 
stood, and a long-silent, empty fountain added 
an additional touch of unkempt moss to the 
dreary scene. Through the thick mass of flow- 
ers and shrubs Tommy caught the faint outlines 
of a large white mansion. Then the sun set, 
and with it came the darkness of a tropical even- 
ing which has no twilight. 

The wind now came up and moaned softly 
through the tall palms. Tommy shivered; the 
dreary, uninhabited look of the place, its utter 
desolation, struck a chill to his heart, and he 
had just decided to retrace his steps when a 
glimmer of light shone faintly from the lower 
story of the house. At that same instant, up the 
avenue through which he had just come, came 


54 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 

the sound of stealthy footsteps. Tommy 
dropped to his knees behind a white jessamine 
bush and awaited developments. Two people 
were approaching. His quick ears told him that ; 
he could see nothing. 

Then came the sound of a stumble and a fall, 
and a vile oath in Spanish. Then, in good 
English Tommy heard, in a harsh whisper: 

You black devil, if you play me any tricks 
your life won’t be worth a peso.” 

The reply was in Cuban Spanish, broken and 
voluble, full of explanations and excuses. 

With every nerve strained to the utmost. 
Tommy listened to hear on what errand of evil 
these two had come ; for it was evil, he was sure 
of that. 

"'Are you sure they are alone,” asked the 
American voice. 

" Si, Sehor,” was the reply. " I myself saw 
old Sanchez and his son at the tent of the big 
General (Shatter). Old Madame had sent to 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 55 

ask for protection for herself and the pretty 
granddaughter. Sanchez and his son will not 
return to-night. Big J ules had a score to settle 
with them.’^ 

Well, Jose, we will do the protecting act,’^ 
sneered the American in fairly good Spanish. 
A low, fiendish chuckle was the only answer to 
this. 

Ah ! there’s a light,” exclaimed the Ameri- 
can, suddenly, catching the faint glimmer 
through the trees. What does it mean, you 
rascal ? ” 

^^It is the granddaughter, senor, preparing 
the evening meal for her grandmother. Ah, 
I tell you, besides the gold they have plenty to 
eat there; things of the best. We may be starv- 
ing, but they feast on fine food and delicate 
wines ; but before this night is over I will share 
with them. Shall we enter the house now, 
Senor?” 

No, Jose; we’ll wait a half-hour or so. We 


56 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 

won’t take any chances of being overheard. 
Women shriek so, and the soldiers are wander- 
ing around in every direction now; bnt in a 
half-hour all save the sentries will be asleep.” 

Then in low tones the two discussed their 
plans, not one word of which was lost to 
Tommy. 

From the first moment Tommy heard the 
voice of the American villain it had been 
vaguely familiar. It brought a feeling of dis- 
comfort and uneasiness, as if connected with 
some disagreeable event in his past life; of this 
the boy felt certain. 

Just then one of the men softly struck a 
match to light his cigarette, and in the flash 
which followed the face of the American 
gleamed out for a second. 

It was Pete Newell! Tommy knew him. 
There was no doubt in Tommy’s mind that he 
knew the man. It was his old-time enemy Pete 
Newell. Horse thief, border ruffian, and mur- 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 57 

derer ! What did he want here before the house 
of two lonely, unprotected women? 

Tommy knew that if his presence was dis- 
covered he would meet instant death, yet he had 
no thought of deserting his post. 

He discovered that the two villains meant to 
rob the Martinez plantation after its inmates 
were asleep. The Cuban negro had been a ser- 
vant in the place, but had been whipped and 
discharged for theft by the Sehora some time 
before. He was intent upon revenge as well as 
plunder. 

If the women awake ? he asked presently. 

“ They must not be allowed to scream and 
give the alarm,’^ replied Newell, with deadly 
meaning. 

Tommy knew that those desperate villains 
would not hesitate at murder. He was in a 
dozen minds at once as to what was best to do. 
Should he hurry to the nearest patrol and give 
the alarm ? But what might not happen while 


58 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 

he was gone? No; he dared not risk it. True, 
he was only a boy, but God was on his side and 
would help him. Almost mechanically he began 
a prayer for courage and guidance. If he could 
get to the house and alarm the two ladies, he 
thought, and watch with them until daylight 
brought old Sanchez and Carlos back. They 
must be able to lock themselves in. 

The ruffians had a key to the small side door. 
The Cuban had stolen it more than a year be- 
fore, when he was sent away in disgrace, vowing 
that he would use it some day to revenge him- 
self. This Tommy learned from their conversa- 
tion. According to Cuban custom, the windows 
of the house were provided with heavy iron bars 
and great, thick shutters, which were closed 
tightly and barred every night before the ladies 
retired; but inside the house everything was 
wide open, all the rooms being on the ground 
floor and communicating with great arches to 
insure all the air possible through the house. 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 59 

Tommy decided to try and make his way 
unseen by the two desperadoes to the rear of the 
great house, and then slip inside quietly and 
alarm the two ladies without the watching vil- 
lains knowing of his presence. He would protect 
them to the best of his ability, but could make 
no plans until he had discussed the situation 
with the ladies. 

He stretched out his arms as he moved cau- 
tiously in the blackness of the tropical night, 
anxious not to stumble over anything which 
would make a noise and attract the attention 
of those villainous watchers. 

Step by step he made his way, finding a path 
which led to the back of the house. Here 
Tommy found everything had been closed and 
locked. 

Ho doubt the front of the house, too, had been 
shut up for the night, according to the invari- 
able custom, as they believe the night air 
to be a deadly poison, and carefully exclude it 


60 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 

from their houses, no matter how high the ther- 
mometer stands. 

Mercedes’ Yankee training, however, had the 
effect of making her rebellious against many 
Cuban customs, and none more so than this one. 
She would sleep with her windows wide open, in 
spite of all her grandmother’s protests, and dire 
prophecies of yellow fever, etc. 

Her room was at the west end of the mansion, 
opening into a low, broad portico, and here the 
heavy green wooden shutter had not been closed, 
as the boy saw with a gasp of intense relief. It 
was not a difficult task for an athletic youngster 
to climb to the little balcony, and in a moment 
Tommy was up on it. With his heart beating 
hard with excitement, he called softly : Seno- 
rita ! Senorita ! ” 

There was a startled exclamation of surprise ; 
then a soft voice answered in English : What is 
it ? I am an American ; speak English.” 

A mingled feeling of relief and gratitude 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 61 

swept over our hero. With an American girl 
to deal with the situation his hopes arose, while 
all fears and misgivings disappeared. 

Just then, from an inner apartment, a high 
shrill, querulous voice called out in Spanish: 

What is it, Mercedes ? With whom are you 
speaking ? Has Sanchez returned ? ” 

The young girl answered, soothingly : It 
is nothing. Grandmother ; rest in peace.” 

The soft Spanish voice filled Tommy with ter- 
rible doubts. She said she was American, but 
that's Spanish. If I can trust to my own ears,” 
he thought. 

At that moment a charming face appeared 
behind the iron-barred window, and with a 
warning finger laid upon her lips to enjoin cau- 
tion, the girl asked in a whisper : “ What is it ? ” 
In a low whisper Tommy told his story. The 
moon was coming up now ; the brilliant tropical 
moon which makes day of night, and he could 
see the girPs white, set face, her great black 


62 Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 

eyes gleaming with anger. There was no trace 
of fear in them. 

“ How can I thank yon ? ” cried Mercedes, 
warmly. It is brave, very brave, of yon to rnn 
snch a risk, and yon are only a boy, too. Bnt 
come. If those wretches see yon, yon will be in 
danger. I will alarm my grandmother, and we 
will let yon in at the kitchen door. That black 
villain Peitro is to be feared, as he is a dan- 
gerons man. I remember him well.” 

Not so dangerons as the white one,” 
thonght Tommy, as Mercedes disappeared to 
alarm the Senora and nnbar the kitchen door 
to admit their yonng protector. 

It was the Senora herself who opened the door, 
for Tommy, and who kept her keen old eyes 
npon him while she qnestioned him briefly and 
to the point. He stood the ordeal well, and his 
blnshing, honest face spoke so in his favor that 
the stately old lady, thanking him fervently all 
the while, nshered him into the long dining 


Tommy Meets an Old Enemy. 63 

safon, where Mercedes stood holding a candle in 
an American tin candlestick. She smiled as she 
caught sight of Tommy’s merry, round face. 

Our silver ones are all in hiding/’ she ex- 
plained, with a wave of the tin affair ; so we 
are obliged to use Yankee ones.” 

Tommy looked at the young girl in utter 
amazement. How could she talk so lightly 
when their very lives were in peril ? The truth 
was Mercedes did not at all realize the danger of 
the sitiiation, and for that matter, neither did 
the Sehora. Both thought to bar and bolt the 
doors and to keep the lights burning would be 
a sufficient precaution. The villains would not 
dare attempt to enter the house. Tommy knew 
better. He fully realized that he had two des- 
perate villains to deal with; men who would 
stop at nothing; not even murder! 


CHAPTEE V. 


MERCEDES. 

The Senora Martinez was a typical Spanish 
grande dame, one who had never learned to love 
her beautifnl island home, but considered her- 
self an exile from her beloved Spain, to which 
country she was bound not only by family ties 
and dear association, but by a deep and passion- 
ate love of the land of her birth; a love which 
made her live in Cuba only in order that- she 
might return to Spain with her children rich 
and influential, able to occupy the position their 
ancient rank and lineage entitled them to. But, 
alas ! one after another, she had seen her cher- 
ished plans fall through. In the first revolt of 
the Cubans against their Spanish tyrants, Don 
Martinez, her beloved husband, had warmly es- 
poused the Cuban cause, but died of yellow 
64 


Mercedes. 


65 


fever before he had compromised himself with 
the home government. 

Her eldest son, a private in the rebellion of 
^96 was now, in the winter of ^98, a Colonel in 
the Cuban Army. This was bitterness untold 
to the proud old soul, and she was never heard 
to mention his name from the day he received 
his commission. But her only daughter had 
married a Captain in the Spanish Army, and at 
this date was with her husband in the city of 
Santiago, where he had command of a battalion 
in a regiment of infantry. 

Mercedes was the only child of the Senora’s 
second and favorite son and of a beautiful 
American girl, whom he had wooed and mar- 
ried one gay winter in Havana, only to lose 
her a year later when little Mercedes was 
born. 

The young husband did not long survive his 
wife, and the orphan child was left to the care 
of her grandparents — the Senora Martinez, a fit 


66 


Mercedes. 


representative of the ancien regime, a great lady 
in every sense of the word, and of the New 
England grandparents, a good old Boston 
family. 

Mercedes was a cnrions combination, a 
bundle of contradictions,^^ her Boston grand- 
father often said, the result of spending her 
winters in Cuba, where all her education and 
ideas were Spanish, and her summers in the 
beantifnl old country place in the Berkshires, 
where her mother’s people had lived and died 
for many generations. Here she was American- 
ized as much as was possible in the six months 
of her annual visit, and everything done to 
eradicate the Spanish influence, with the soli- 
tary exception of the child’s faith. She was not 
only permitted to attend the pretty Catholic 
chapel in the village, but Father O’Hara, the 
genial, white-haired old rector, was on terms of 
intimacy with the entire family, from Mer- 
cedes’ grandfather. Squire Ames, as the village 


Mercedes, 


67 


people called him, down to the little visiting 
nieces and nephews. 

Notwithstanding this curious dual life and 
bringing up, the child grew and flourished. She 
was now a tall, slim girl of sixteen, beautiful 
in face, and with the sweetest disposition in the 
world, albeit she had a quick temper ; but as she 
forgave as easily as she took offense, and was 
eager to make amends whenever her flery Span- 
ish blood had flamed out suddenly, no one loved 
her the less because of her tantrums,^’ as old 
Martha, the cook at Hiiltop,^^ called Mer- 
cedes^ tropical outbursts. This winter of ^98 
had been a sore trial to the warm-hearted, pas- 
sionate child, fllled with an ardent love of coun- 
try, and an earnest hope that fair Cuba might 
be freed, and she prayed fervently that her own 
dear American kinsfolk would come to the 
rescue. 

The Senora was as intensely Spanish in her 
sympathies as her children and grandchildren 


68 


Mercedes. 


were Cuban. She affected to hold the insur- 
gent cause as that of a horde of irresponsible 
bandits, and her proud old lips had never men- 
tioned her son’s name since he had accepted a 
commission in their army. The Senora, with all 
the proud obstinacy of her race, refused to see 
what was apparent to every one. She held the 
insurgents in such absolute contempt she could 
not be made to believe that she and her grand- 
daughter were in the least danger ; she insisted 
upon Mercedes’ visit as usual the winter of 
’98, and even prolonged her visit unusually late, 
until one day she suddenly awoke to the fact 
that war, in all its awful aspects, was abroad in 
the land. Her people left her in hordes to join 
the Cuban army ; the sugar cane was left to rot 
in the fields; several hot skirmishes had been 
fought on her home plantation, and everything 
available in the way of food and vehicles had 
been seized by one side or the other. To her 
dismay she found that her strong Spanish sym- 


Mercedes. 


69 


pathies did not prevent the Spanish from mak- 
ing a clean sweep of all they wanted, while her 
son’s name was no longer a protection from the 
looting of the Cubans. She was in no personal 
danger, she and Mercedes, but as it was the 
situation was serious enough. 

When too late the Senora would have hurried 
Mercedes off to the United States ; but Schley’s 
fleet suddenly appeared off Santiago, and there 
was no more traveling for many long weeks. 
The Senora had always stoutly maintained that 
those barbarous, money-loving Yankees would 
never get further than Key West; they would 
never dare encounter the trained army of Spain. 
As for their Navy, every one knew it was com- 
posed of hirelings, who would mutiny or desert 
at the first shot, leaving the American ships an 
easy prey to Cervera and his powerful fleet. 

Strange and incredible as it may seem, not 
one word of Dewey’s great victory had been al- 
lowed to reach the public in or about Santiago. 


70 


Mercedes, 


Perhaps the Sehora might not have been so ab- 
solutely confident in her opinions if she had 
known of the terrible defeat of one Spanish 
fleet. Still, she was a very obstinate and de- 
cided old lady, and it probably would not have 
caused her to change her mind in the least. 
Mercedes was heart and soul Cuban in her sym- 
pathies, but having been trained to show all 
reverence and deference to the stately, imperi- 
ous old Spanish grandmother, she kept her 
opinions pretty much to herself, excepting when 
the Senora would begin a tirade against those 
Yankee mercenaries.’^ Then Mercedes’ black 
eyes would flash fire, and she would exclaim, 
hotly : You forget. Grandmother, my mother 
and I are Yankees,” whereupon the Senora 
would instantly apologize with the most stately 
grace in the world. She adored Mercedes. 

The child was almost necessarily a bundle 
of contradictions, like her hair, which was of a 
pure golden hue, and her big, black Spanish 


Mercedes. 


n 


eyes. When at Santiago she was intensely 
American, but when in the Berkshires she was 
all Cuban. 

Of the numerous servants and field hands 
upon the great plantation all had left save old 
Sanchez, who had been born and brought up on 
the place, as had his children and grandchil- 
dren, who were now scattered and gone with 
the exception of Carlos, a faithful lad of six- 
teen. When the first rumor of the approach of 
the American Army reached Santiago, the Gen- 
eral commanding had offered the Senora the 
protection of his home inside the city, but the 
Senora refused, saying she would prefer to die 
if necessary in her own home, and not be 
starved to death in a siege, or have her grand- 
child die of yellow fever, which would be sure to 
come with a siege and the resulting starvation. 

She and Mercedes thereupon held a council 
of war with Sanchez and Carlos, his grandson, 
the result of which was that everything in the 


n 


Mercedes. 


house of any value was either hidden or safely 
buried. Then a supply of food, as ample as 
could be bought, was laid in, among the necessa- 
ries being a few delicacies in the way of canned 
soups and other things, which Mercedes in- 
sisted upon as being necessary in the event of 
illness, for already it seemed to the young girl 
as if her grandmother’s strength and energy 
were rapidly failing under this constant state of 
suspense and excitement. 

Mercedes went about her preparations in 
great but suppressed excitement. The advent 
of the American Army, which her grandmother 
looked upon with wrath and horror, she secretly 
longed for with all the warm and enthusiastic 
patriotism of her ardent young soul. Cuba 
libre was her constant prayer these days. 

Back of the house some little distance was a 
steep hill, from the summit of which one could 
get a fine sweep of the surrounding country and 
of the beautiful' harbor of Santiago, while off 


Mercedes. 


73 


in the distance stretched the bine waters of the 
ocean. Here, oftentimes, Mercedes wonld climb, 
field-glass in hand, trying to catch the first sight 
of the great army which was coming to rescue 
her beloved country from the tyrants^ rule. 

When Admiral Schley finally appeared she 
could hardly control her excitement. She was 
anxious to keep her grandmother in ignorance 
of it, for all war news agitated the poor old 
Senora terribly. 

Then the blockade was declared, and though 
the American fleet stood very far out at sea, 
yet through her glass Mercedes^ sharp eyes could 
see the masts of the ship, standing up sharply 
against the blue tropical sky like tall, black 
sticks, and it comforted her and kept up her 
courage to know they were even that near. And 
when finally Admiral Sampson steamed up on 
the Hew York and took command, there 
was a change of program at once, and the 
great, gray grim vessels of war came in so near 


74 


Mercedes. 


the harbor that the young girl could see their 
shining guns and the sailors moving about. 

She could not distinguish that Star-spangled 
Banner, which had come in the cause of com- 
mon humanity to set a people free, but the very 
knowledge that it was there, floating in steady 
defiant challenge to the Spanish Admiral, shut 
up like a rat in a trap, in Santiago's seemingly 
peaceful, calm, azure waters, sent a thrill 
through her whole being, and fervent were the 
prayers the child sent up to the God of battles 
that the cause of justice and mercy might tri- 
umph. 

At the first coming of the American fleet the 
Senora had expressed an angry, vehement sur- 
prise, and indignation that such a thing could 
possibly happen, but as the days went on, and 
the fleet kept out at sea from twenty to forty 
miles, her indignation subsided into a contemp- 
tuous indifference. 

^^They are perfectly safe at that distance/^ 


Mercedes, 


75 


she would say to Mercedes, who could say noth- 
ing in reply, but, with the arrival of Sampson 
that very morning the great ships steamed up 
close to the harbor^s mouth, and took up the 
position they held with grim patience for so 
many weary days. The child could not restrain 
her wild feeling of triumph. She rushed back 
to the house with the news. 

Grandmother, our ships have come in close 
to the harbor. Cervera^s fleet can not escape 
now.” 

Our ships ! ” replied the grandmother 
coldly. 

Yes; our ships. Grandmother. I am sorry to 
hurt you, dear Grandmother, but I can not help 
it ; my heart is with my people. I am all Cuban 
and American, like my father and mother.” 

The Senora^s pale, drawn face grew a shade 
whiter as she answered coldly and contemptu- 
ously : You are a child, and you know nothing 
of the rights of this war.” 


76 


Mercedes. 


‘‘ I am a child, perhaps/’ Mercedes flashed 
back ; but I am old enough to know right from 
wrong ; I am old enough to love my country, and 
to die for it,” she concluded, with passionate 
emotion. Then, bursting into tears, she rushed 
from the room. 

Before Shafter’s Fifth Army Corps appeared 
off the coast, Mercedes had had a thrilling per- 
sonal encounter with one daring young Ameri- 
can ally, and had been a solitary but entranced 
witness to Hobson’s daring feat. About six 
o’clock of the hottest of hot June mornings 
(Saturday, the 11th, it was), Mercedes had 
climbed, field-glass in hand, to her lofty look- 
out, the cactus-covered, palm-crested hill back 
of the hacienda. She wanted to make sure that 
those grim, gray sentinels, Sampson’s ships, 
were still guarding the harbor. 

The grounds of the Martinez plantation were 
of great extent, reaching down to the harbor it- 
self to the east, where, in a little cove, the re- 


Mercedes. 


77 


mains of a small pleasure dock, boat and bath 
houses could still be seen. The cove was situ- 
ated quite outside and well to the east of the 
harbor entrance. The Cuban insurgents con- 
stantly made use of it to land contrabands of 
war. So, as the young girl idly swept her glass 
across the view of the cove, she was not much 
surprised to notice a boat landing there; but 
suddenly she gave a startled exclamation, a 
scream of mingled admiration and terror. The 
glass showed her plainly the figure of a tall, 
young American naval officer standing in the 
bow of the boat ; but even as she looked he gave 
some final directions to the boat^s crew, which 
pulled out as he jumped quickly ashore and dis- 
appeared into the thick jungle which lined the 
bank down to the very waters of the bay. A 
confused, incoherent account of Lieutenant 
Hobson’s brave feat of sinking the Merrimac” 
at the entrance of the harbor of Santiago, so 
that Cervera^s fleet could not steal out under 


78 


Mercedes. 


cover of darkness, had reached the two ladies 
from the few Cuban servants left on the place. 
They knew that the gallant young officer and his 
crew were confined under a heavy guard at the 
Morro; so that when Mercedes saw the young 
American naval officer make this desperate 
landing, her one thought was that he was one of 
a rescuing party sent to release Hobson and his 
men. 

Fearful that he would fall into the hands of 
the Spanish outposts, which were planted thick- 
ly all along the coast at that point, Mercedes re- 
solved to meet and warn the stranger. Seve- 
ral narrow, almost impenetrable trails led up 
from the beach, but all came out near one point, 
with which the young girl was perfectly fa- 
miliar; so she, too, plunged unhesitatingly into 
the thick, tropical undergrowth, making her 
way, though with some difficulty, to the spot she 
felt almost sure of meeting the American officer. 

When an hour later a somewhat ragged 


Mercedes. 


79 


but triumphant young naval officer made 
his way through the last of the network 
of tangled vines and sharp thorns, in his diffi- 
cult ascent, he found himself in a small 
open space which had once been laid out with 
plants and shrubs, and a long-disused fountain, 
and, most amazing of all, a young girl stood 
there as if actually awaiting him. A low ex- 
clamation of astonishment broke from the 
young officer, as he laid his hand upon the pis- 
tol he carried. 

Not a word, sir,’’ whispered Mercedes. 

You are not two hundred feet from the Span- 
ish pickets. Follow me and I will lead you to 
a safer spot.” 

“ An American girl here ! By J ove, this 
beats all ! ” muttered the astonished officer, as 
he prepared to follow Mercedes’ guidance. 

Her speech alone, and she talks good Boston- 
ese, is a guarantee of good faith under the cir- 
cumstances.” 


80 


Mercedes. 


When they had reached a place of compara- 
tive safety, mutual explanations and introduc- 
tions were given. Mercedes felt an explanation 
was needed in her case, because she was really 
violating every canon of Cuban etiquette by be- 
ing out alone ; her grandmother never permitted 
her to go outside of the house unattended. But 
the young officer had not even thought of the 
conventional; all he saw was that this young 
girl was ready to help him in his desperate en- 
terprise, and he admired her pluck and daring, 
but it was after all only what one would expect 
from an American girl. 

Lieutenant Blue, I hope what I have told 
you will induce you to return to your ship. I ad- 
mire your courage, but you will never succeed. 
The Spanish pickets are as thick as flies between 
here and Santiago. I would dislike to have you 
meet with Lieutenant Hobson’s fate,” said Mer- 
cedes, in conclusion. She had given the young 
officer every possible scrap of information she 


Mercedes. 


81 


possessed, trying to persuade him that his plan 
of absolutely identifying the Spanish fleet by 
a personal view of Cervera^s ships from the 
heights surrounding Santiago was not only ex- 
tremely hazardous, but certain to fail, and re- 
sult in his own capture. 

They are in the harbor. Lieutenant ; I give 
you my word.^^ 

‘‘ I do not doubt it. Miss Martinez ; but my 
orders are to see for myself, and see I must. 
My boat will meet me Monday at dusk, and if 
I am alive I shall be there. You have given 
me most valuable information; if you could 
manage to put something to eat where I could 
get at it that would be of the greatest help. 
Bananas and mangoes as a steady diet are apt 
to pall.^^ 

Mercedes undertook to place some food in the 
observatory, saying she only wished she could 
do more to help. 

" I shall be so anxious, sir, to know of your 


82 


Mercedes. 


safe return aboard ship/^ she said, shyly, as she 
was about to take leave of the young officer. 

He thought a moment, and then said : 

Watch the ^ New York ’ at seven o’clock Tues- 
day morning. You have field-glasses, you say? 
If all has gone well with me I will wigwag a 
small Union Jack three times. We will have a 
little code of our own. And now, good-by, and 
once more, thank you.” 

Mercedes returned to the house so full of sup- 
pressed excitement that her grandmother re- 
proved her for her restlessness. Many times on 
the ensuing days did the young girl sweep the 
horizon with her glass, but not a trace of the 
young officer could she see, and when the small 
basket of food she had placed in the observatory 
remained untouched, her heart grew sick with 
fear. The gallant young officer must have been 
killed or captured. Monday night she could not 
sleep, and long before seven o’clock Tuesday 
morning she was at her post, field-glass in hand. 


Mercedes, 


83 


As her small watch marked seven, she raised 
her glass and looked out to sea. Yes; she could 
make out Admiral Sampson’s flagship, for Lieu- 
tenant Blue had described her position in the 
fleet. She gazed tremblingly at the deck of the 

New York.” No signal yet. A sudden blur 
of tears came over the girl’s eyes. So young 
and brave to die,” she thought. She opened 
them to see the Union J ack wave three times as 
agreed upon from the deck of the New York ” 
in the hands of Lieutenant Blue, who stood 
with bared head as if to salute the young girl. 

Mercedes returned to the house with dancing 
footsteps and singing, under her breath to be 
sure, The Star Spangled Banner.” 

Child, child, I do not know what to make 
of you,” said her grandmother. Yesterday 
your face was as long and as sad as if you had 
been to a funeral ; to-day you sing and dance as 
if for a wedding.” 

^^It is nothing, dear Grandmother; only I 


84 


Mercedes. 


can not keep still and subdued when such great 
things are happening or going to happen/^ 
After this adventure Mercedes was always ex- 
pecting something to happen, so that when 
Tommy walked in at her window it can not be 
said she was overwhelmed with surprise. 


CHAPTER VI. 


TOMMY COLLINS TO THE RESCUE. 

A DARING plan had been formed in Tommy^s 
mind as they stood there in the gloom of the 
stately old dining salon, a plan of Yankee 
bluff. The boy realized fully their really 
desperate situation ; but the two ladies did not. 
Indeed, as Mercedes stood there waving her 
Yankee candlestick with its ill-smelling tal- 
low dip, she smiled at the odd incongruity 
of the whole scene, the stately little grand- 
mother listening with an air of haughty 
condescension to the boyish American soldier in 
his rough, battle-stained blue uniform. War 
certainly brings the unexpected,’^ thought the 
young girl, thinking of her adventure with the 
naval officer. 

I thank you once again, Senor Americano, 
85 


86 Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 

for coining to warn ns/’ the Senora was saying, 
and I will ask you to give the protection of 
your presence until my servants return. I have 
sent them on a message to your commanding 
General asking protection from your Cuban 
allies. They have destroyed everything possible 
on my estate.” 

Certainly, madam,” replied Tommy, in his 
best Spanish ; I will stay and protect you.” 
The old lady is hopeless,” thought the boy, 
but the young one looks as if she had plenty 
of sense. I will try and make her understand.” 
Whereupon he explained to Mercedes, briefly 
but vividly, the awful danger they were in. 
They spoke in English, which the Senora did 
not understand. It had always been a matter 
of pride with her that she could not speak it nor 
understand it; but she was watching the two 
young people with her keen old eyes. When she 
saw Mercedes turn deathly white and shiver as 
if in awful dread of some unseen horror, she 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue, 87 

called out sharply: What is it, little one? 

What terrifies you ? ” 

‘‘Tell her,^^ answered Tommy. “It is best 
she should know the real danger, for then she 
can best help my plan.^^ 

Much to the surprise of the young people, 
the Senora’s spirits seemed to rise to the occa- 
sion when her granddaughter had explained the 
murderous purpose of the waiting villains. She 
exclaimed vigorously: “The black-hearted 
scoundrels ! Come, young sir ; your plan ! your 
plan!^^ 

When Tommy had detailed to the ladies his 
daring scheme, it was the older one who entered 
into it with the greatest spirit. His plan was to 
make the two murderous villains think that a 
party of American pickets had invaded the 
Martinez mansion in search of deserters from 
the American Army, and also make them be- 
lieve that a big patrol had been sent out by Gen- 
eral Shatter U arch the grounds of the plan- 


88 Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 

tation for the Cuban guerillas of whom the Se- 
nora had made complaint. It took only a few 
moments to arrange a plan of action, which was 
immediately carried into effect. 

The intense stillness of the night was sud- 
denly broken by a tremendous uproar at the rear 
of the mansion. A series of blows as if on a 
closed door; then the crash as if the door had 
been broken open. At the same time the front 
doors of the mansion were thrown open vio- 
lently, and the Senora, protesting loudly against 
such outrageous conduct on the part of the 
Americans, stepped out on the broad veranda, 
followed by our young hero, attempting to pla- 
cate the Senora’s wrath. 

I am only obeying orders, Madam,^^ he ex- 
plained, in a loud tone of voice, standing bare- 
headed with cap in hand and drawn sword — a 
sword which Mercedes’ young father had worn, 
and which always hung over the portrait of 
the dead officer in the great salon. To play his 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 89 

part of an officer Tommy needed a sword, so he 
had asked permission to borrow it. 

My men will do no damage, Madam, I as- 
sure you; but we must search your house and 
grounds. The General commanding has re- 
ceived information that a deserter from our 
army has been selling information to the enemy. 
There are several patrols out searching for the 
villain, who was last seen in company with a 
Cuban outlaw and murderer, whom the Cubans 
are also looking for on the same charge of trea- 
son. Both men will be shot if found. Some 
Cubans reported at our camp an hour ago that 
their pickets had seen the two desperadoes on 
your plantation.’’ 

This was a bold stroke on Tommy’s part. The 
two wretches, crouching low in the thick shrub- 
bery of the pleasure-garden, heard every word of 
Tommy’s long speech, as it was intended they 
should. They looked at each other with hate 
and suspicion. Each suspected the other of 


90 Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 

betraying him. Newell drew a long, sharp 
knife, which he thrust menacingly into the face 
of his black companion, whispering fiercely: 

If I find you have betrayed me into a trap, I 
will kill you like a dog.” 

By this time lights were hashing from every 
window in the house. This had been entrusted 
to Mercedes, who played her part well, making 
a great noise and fiying from room to room 
with her light, making it appear as if several 
men were engaged in a hurried search. 

I am sorry to cause you so much trouble. 
Madam; but my men will be as careful as pos- 
sible. I will not have them search the grounds 
near the house, but will put two or three men on 
guard.” 

It is quite unnecessary,” quoth the little So- 
nora, frigidly; ^^but you are master now, sir, 
and we must submit. It will be different when 
you meet our Spanish Army.” 

This was a thrust at the confident young 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 91 

American that the Senora could not resist, but 
Tommy, not understanding, only thought the 
old lady was acting her part mighty well. 

As the two disappeared within doors, the 
desperadoes, thoroughly frightened over their 
supposed danger of immediate capture by the 
American outposts, held a low, hurried consul- 
tation as to how they could make their escape. 
Escape was the only thing they now thought of. 

Every foot of the Martinez plantation was 
familiar to Jose, the Cuban renegade, so he took 
the lead in their retreat, Pete Newell following, 
knife in hand, and breathing vengeance at every 
step. As the two villains reached the thick 
jungle which bordered the neglected drive, they 
paused and glanced back at the scene of their 
intended crime. The mansion stood out clear 
and white in the brilliant moonlight, while on 
the front veranda, pacing slowly up and down, 
was an American sentry, his rifle gleaming out 
distinctly. 


92 Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 

I’ll do this job yet,” growled Pete Newell, 
savagely, shaking his fist at the unconscious 
sentinel, who was Tommy, of course, minus his 
sword, which he had exchanged for the rifle of 
a soldier. 

Come on, you miserable Cuban,” muttered 
the American deserter. I don’t trust you out 
of my sight. Come ; I’ve the countersign, which 
will take us safely into the nearest Spanish out- 
post.” And it will go hard,” thought the 
treacherous villain, a traitor even to his partner 
in crime, if I don’t land you in the Spanish 
guardhouse. I would kill him now if I wasn’t 
afraid he would make an outcry which would 
bring the American picket down upon us,” said 
Newell to himself. And then the two, of whom 
it would be hard to say which was the greater 
rascal, disappeared in the gloom of the jungle 
like two evil birds of prey. 

All that night Tommy kept faithful guard 
over the two lonely women so strangely thrown 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 93 

upon him for protection. He felt sure his ruse 
had succeeded as the hours passed and the des- 
peradoes made no sign. However, he did not 
trust to this, but walked his post until the first 
faint gleam of rosy dawn appeared over the hill- 
tops. Within the house the two ladies had spent 
the night in watching and praying; starting at 
every sound, fearing the worst, yet having great 
faith in their brave young protector. 

The early dawn found them spent and worn 
with their terrible night’s vigil. With the first 
ray of sunshine Mercedes burst into a passion of 
tears, and, throwing herself into her grand- 
mother’s arms, she exclaimed, fervently : 
" Thank God, Grandmother, we are safe ! I 
have felt that horrible knife at my throat all 
night.” 

Very tenderly the Senora soothed the over- 
wrought girl, and to take her mind off the 
night’s adventure she proposed that they make 
some coffee and get some breakfast for their 


94 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 


young defender. So Tommy was soon called in, 
overwhelmed with thanks, and given several 
cups of the most delicious coffee he had ever 
tasted. 


He * Hi 4s H: 

About ten o’clock a small party of Cuban sol- 
diers, under command of a Lieutenant, strolled 
leisurely in, saying they had orders from the 
American Brigade Commander to go into camp 
on the Sehora’s plantation to guard herself 
and her granddaughter from all depreda- 
tion. 

The Americano General was amazed to hear 
that there was a young American lady in the 
midst of his army; but I told him, Senorita, 
that though you were American you were 
Cuban, too, and that we Cubans would die in 
your defense.” This speech the Cuban officer 
made with fervor, and a final dramatic touch of 
half drawing his sword. 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 95 

Mercedes laughed. Thank you, Senor Lieu- 
tenant ; we much prefer you to live, even Grand- 
mother here, who has no possible use for us 
Cubans,^’ and she nodded saucily at the Senora, 
her spirits now reacting from the strain and sus- 
pense of the night before. But here is one, 
Senor, who risked his life,” pointing to our 
hero, who stood blinking in the bright sunshine 
and looking, if the truth must be told, anything 
but heroic, to save ours, and I want the Amer- 
ican General to know just how brave he has 
been.” 

‘‘Of what regiment, Senor ? ” inquired the 
young Cuban officer, courteously. 

“ The Thirty-first regulars, the Second Bri- 
gade of this Division,” with a nonchalant air 
which gave the impression that he was at least 
a lieutenant, although he did look a mere slip 
of a boy. 

Both the Senora and Mercedes bade Tommy a 
warm farewell, assuring him over and over if 


96 Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 

they could serve him at any time they would 
consider it a pleasure. 

And now to report to the Adjutant,” said 
Master Tommy, to himself, and explain my 
absence from duty all night. It seems to 
me, though, that I have been on duty all 
night.” 

As Tommy drew near the so-called camp of 
the Thirty-first he found his father anxiously 
awaiting him. 

Tommy, lad, where on earth have you been ? 
I didnT know you were absent till reveille 
sounded and saw you were absent from your 
duty as Color Guard. I feared you’d met with 
some accident, me boy.” 

Whereupon Tommy proceeded to relate his 
adventures of the night before. 

^^You had a narrow escape, me hoy, thanks 
be to God,” said the old soldier, reverently. A 
blacker-hearted villain than that Pete Newell 
never lived. He must be with one o’ them 


Tommy Collins to the Rescue. 97 

mule-trains. The men say they have some of 
the scum of the airth wid ’em. But come, now, 
lad, and make your report to the Adjutant. 
Shure, Tommy, ’twas a fine job for yous to be 
rescuing two fine Spanish ladies.” And so the 
two went in quest of Mr. Brownson. 


CHAPTEE VII. 


SAN JUAN PULL. 

It was at dusk on the evening of June 30 
that a weary looking mounted orderly rode into 
the Thirty-first’s camp. He paused only long 
enough to dismount in front of Colonel Ten- 
nant’s tent, salute, and hand him an order writ- 
ten on a small scrap of paper. 

The group of waiting officers looked anxious- 
ly at their Colonel’s impassive face, but he did 
not keep them waiting long. 

The advance on San J uan is ordered for 
to-morrow morning at daylight, gentlemen,” he 
said quietly. 

For a few hours all was bustle and apparent 
confusion; preparations were made to give the 
men coffee before the early morning march. It 
was the last they had in four days. But by the 
98 


San Juan Hill. 


99 


time the moon came np all was quiet; officers 
and men slept, all save the sentries pacing 
slowly up and down. 

Eeveille sounded at four o’clock on the morn- 
ing of July 1; officers and men snatched a 
hasty breakfast — hard tack and bacon the fare 
for all — but plenty of strong, delicious coffee. 
By half-past four they had joined their brigade 
and were making their way to the front. 

That march on San Juan has become his- 
toric; it has been written, painted and quar- 
reled over, but we will only see and hear what 
Tommy saw that day. 

It was a frightfully hot day, unusually so 
even for July in Cuba. The trail along which 
the Thirty-first was marching was bordered on 
both sides by thick tropical jungle, perfectly 
impenetrable; it did not allow so much as a 
breath of wind to reach the panting, suffering 
men. Colonel Tennant, tall, wiry, six-footer 
that he was, strode ahead of the regiment with 


L.cfC. 


100 


San Juan Hill, 


his Adjutant and Quartermaster, the regimen- 
tal and national flags with the Color Guard 
immediately in his rear. The colors were still 
unfurled, being easier to carry so. 

As the bugles had sounded the advance, the 
tall, soldierly-looking old Colonel, the hero of 
many flghts, made a very brief speech to his 
men. 

‘‘ Follow your colors, men! We have the ad- 
vance and we mean to keep it ! ’’ 

That was all, but it stirred every man present 
and made him resolve to die if need be in de- 
fense qf the old flag. They would have cheered 
if they had not been regulars ; but, as it was, the 
order came promptly : Forward, march ! ” and 
the Thirty-first swung quietly into line behind 
the th regulars. 

The march was hard on the young, strong 
men, but it was fearfully so on the older ones, 
and yet they struggled on, no one falling out. 
Gallant old Sergeant Collins carried the na- 


San Juan Hill. 


101 


tional flag which the President’s wife had pre- 
sented to the regiment. He looked strangely 
white and very old in the glare of the tropical 
sun. Tommy looked at him anxiously. Dad, 
let me take the flag awhile,” he said coaxingly. 
The old soldier glanced ahead where the figure 
of a stalwart-looking young priest in the chap- 
lain’s uniform could be seen marching steadily 
with the regiment ahead. 

You may, me boy, for five minutes or so. 
I’m going to confession. I went this way many 
a time during the civil war.” And presently 
Tommy saw the two — the young priest and the 
old soldier — marching steadily along shoulder 
to shoulder, and knew that his father was mak- 
ing his confession. Soon he saw the priest giv- 
ing the absolution, and Sergeant Collins, with 
a peaceful look upon his worn face, dropped be- 
hind only to have his place taken by another. 
He seemed to have set an example which many 
were glad to follow, for the priest was kept busy 


102 


San Juan Hill. 


for some time giving absolution to many sol- 
diers, old and young, who felt for once in their 
careless, indifferent lives that it would b.e a 
mighty good thing if they could make their 
peace with God. 

Then a gray-haired old Captain took his place 
by the Confessor’s side, to be replaced by a boy- 
ish Lieutenant. The scene, strangely solemn, 
was suddenly interrupted by the savage hiss of 
a shell which broke over the heads of the regi- 
ment in the lead, but no one was hit. The hiss 
and roar and then the bursting of shells became 
constant; then presently was added the pecu- 
liar, deadly swish of Mausers, and the continual 
pat, pat as they struck the light trees in the 
nearby woods. The men were dropping now, 
and a young Lieutenant of G Company fell 
badly wounded. Tommy saw the Surgeon 
hurry to him with his first aid ” package. 

The horse of some staff officer, frightfully 
torn by a shell, screaming with mad terror, 


San Juan Hill. 


103 


came tearing down the trail, but was quieted by 
a friendly bullet. The sight made Tommy sick. 
He had seen a blue-shirted figure, here and 
there, drift out, but had not realized what it 
meant, but this pain-maddened, tortured animal 
was different. 

The men had discarded their warm blouses, 
their packs containing shelter tents, blanket 
rolls, and their haversacks of scanty rations had 
all become an intolerable burden in the fierce 
heat of a tropical noon. Only their canteens 
were swung from the shoulders of the panting, 
half exhausted men, and their ammunition belts 
with two hundred rounds. 

Orders came now to lie down and get under 
cover, but there w^as no cover from that rain of 
deadly Mausers. 

The men heard something of a war balloon 
which had been sent up, and had only served 
to discover the position of our army to the 
watching Spaniards. 


104 : 


San Juan Hill, 


Colonel Tennant, with two or three officers, 
sat on the banks of the narrow road. Tommy, 
his father and the rest of the Color Guard were 
resting nearby, the standards leaning against a 
tree. 

Presently, Tommy heard the Colonel say: 
This is maddening, Brownson, to lie here idle 
and see my men shot to pieces before my eyes.^’ 
Tommy ! ” called the Colonel, sharply. 
Whatever happens, stick to those colors and 
keep them in the lead.^^ And when the boy 
would have jumped to his feet to reply, the 
Colonel said kindly, with a look of compassion 
at the boyish, eager face, Never mind, my boy ; 
rest now while you have the chance.” 

But an hour passed and no order came to ad- 
vance. Tommy heard several officers say that 
the main road had become congested. What- 
ever that meant, it seemed to his young and in- 
experienced mind as if the army now was just 
a confused lot of cavalrymen and infantrymen 


San Juan Hill, 


105 


lying still to be shot at by Spanish sharp- 
shooters, who, posted in tall trees and using 
smokeless powder, could not be located. Men 
were being shot both in front and rear, the fire 
being practically on all sides of them. This 
deadly fire from an invisible foe was demoraliz- 
ing. Still the men stood their ground unflinch- 
ingly, and presently when the cavalry division 
moved forward the infantry swept on too. 

As the Thirty-first reached the edge of the 
wood it found itself at the ford of the San Juan 
Kiver. The fire was terrific here — “ Bloody 
Ford the men called it. 

Colonel Tennant, recognizing at once that his 
command stood in danger of being annihilated, 
decided to deploy his command and cross the 
deep, swift little river in a rush and thereby 
gain the open beyond. 

Giving the order to advance, the Colonel 
dashed into the stream. With a cheer his men 
followed closely, through the jungle, down the 


106 


San Juan Hill. 


slippery, muddy banks, waist-high and even 
neck-high in some places. They formed again 
as well as possible into regimental order on the 
marshy open field which lay at the foot of San 
Juan Hill. 

Unfurl the colors! ’’ came the quick order, 
and the Sergeant uncapped the gay banners 
which were to lead many to a soldier’s death 
that awful day. 

Then the order, quick and sharp, Dress by 
the colors, men ; dress by the colors ! ” and in 
extended order the Thirty-first moved forward 
by rushes. 

The steep banks of San Juan Hill swarmed 
with the advancing troops. At the crest of the 
hill a small wooden block-house stood out 
against the clear blue of the sky. From it 
waved defiantly the red and yellow flag of 
Spain. Tommy gazed at it dreamingly. How 
much more natural the Stars and Stripes would 
look waving from it,” he thought, with a dis- 


San Juan Hill. 


107 


tinct recollection of the frontier days at Fort 
Harding and the little block-house there which 
had been preserved as a monument of his 
mother’s heroism on a certain long-ago occa- 
sion. With the thought came the intense desire 
to see it there — that glorious flag of Stars and 
Stripes — in place of the flaunting yellow and 
red. 

The Colonel’s tall form was dashing ahead, 
plunging through the thick jungle grass, forc- 
ing the barbed wire fences, with which the Span- 
iards vainly hoped to retard the advance of the 
Americans. Close at his heels came the Color 
Guard, their standards held well aloft, a con- 
spicuous guide for the men who followed them. 

The Colonel’s keen eyes caught the flrst sign 
of straggling, and his voice rang out : The 
colors, men ! Thirty-first, follow your colors ! ” 

A terribly destructive fire from the Spanish 
trenches was being poured down upon that thin 
blue line of advancing Americans. From the 


108 


San Juan Hill. 


still untaken heights of San Juan they sent 
forth a leaden stream which mowed down the 
scrubby bushes and thick lines of guinea-grass 
like the swee^) of a scythe. Already the hillside 
was thickly dotted with prostrate blue forms. 
The two old Color Sergeants, gasping, panting 
for breath, struggled bravely on. Tommy and 
the other young Color Guard at their sides. 

“ To the charge ! ” a bugle, clear and distinct, 
rang out above all the confused sounds of battle. 

Eemember the Maine, men ! cried the 
Colonel. “ Charge ! ” and the Thirty-first, 
panting, struggling, stumbling and falling, 
swept on with an irresistible impulse. No need 
to urge them now. Suddenly, Sergeant Han- 
lon, without a word or a moan, pitched forward, 
dead before he struck the earth. It was 
Tommy’s hands that caught the regimental flag 
as it tottered and would have fallen with its 
gallant bearer. 

Steady, lad,” came from Tommy’s rear. It 


San Juan Hill. 


109 


was Mr. Bently’s voice, and the boy choked 
down a rising sob and went bravely on. 

He and his father were alone now with the 
colors. There was no time to pause to see what 
had become of the other guard, young Murphy. 

They were almost up the hill now. The Span- 
iards in their trenches could be seen plainly, 
running to and fro, like variegated ants. Sud- 
denly a hoarse American cheer rent the air, and 
several infantry regiments, yelling like mad, 
swept up and over the crest of the hill, the 
Thirty-first still well in the lead, cheering 
madly and firing as they advanced. It was too 
much for the Spaniards and they broke and ran. 
Tommy saw a young Spanish officer beating his 
men with the fiat of his sword, trying in vain to 
stop the panic-stricken soldiers; but suddenly 
the young officer clapped his hand to his heart 
and dropped, while in their mad haste to retreat 
the Spanish soldiers trod upon his prostrate 
body. Even in the wild excitement of the battlo 


110 


San Juan Hill, 


Tommy’s heart burned with indignation, and he 
resolved to give his gallant enemy a soldier’s 
burial. These sights flashed like moving pict- 
ures before the boy’s bewildered gaze. He tried 
to keep his eyes on the Colonel’s tall figure, al- 
ways in the lead. 

The men of the Thirty-first were now in the 
Spanish trenches, firing volley after volley upon 
their retreating foes, the Spanish colors still 
fluttering from the block-house. 

With a quick spring Tommy was up on the 
roof. A young Corporal in G Company, divin- 
ing the boy’s intention, scrambled up also, and 
in an instant the two young Americans had cut 
the halyards. Down came the red and yellow 
of Spain and up went the Stars and Stripes. 
Whai a cheer went up from that long, thin line 
in blue! Hunger, heat, the deadly fatigue of 
that awful advance were already forgotten. The 
Spaniards replied with a terrific fire. 

Tommy was at his father’s side again, when 


San Juan Hill. 


Ill 


suddenly the old Sergeant gasped out : I’m 
hit ! ” and sank slowly to the ground. Tommy 
heard a broken God — mercy — ” and all was 
silent. The boy stood there with a look of hor- 
ror upon his young face^ hardly realizing what 
had happened, but Mr. Bently had seen it all. 
He came running up and tore open the gallant 
old Sergeant’s blouse. The wound was right 
through the heart, which had already ceased to 
beat. 

He died as he would have wished to die, 
Tommy lad, in the face of the enemy,” said his 
friend, gently. Come, boy, the colors are 
needed. We are to advance to that hill to the 
front; the order has just come.” The young 
officer stooped and picked up the fallen flags. 
They were wet with the life-blood of their gal- 
lant old bearer, and riddled with Spanish bul- 
lets. He placed them in Tommy’s unresisting 
hands, and led the boy from his dead father’s 
side. 


112 


San Juan Hill. 


The fallen soldier’s campaign hat was rever- 
ently placed over the fine, rngged old face, and 
in his hands Mr. Bently gently placed Mollie’s 
prayer beads,” which her hnsband had carried 
with him from home. They had fallen from 
the pocket of the Sergeant’s blouse when the 
yonng officer was examining his wound. 

The Thirty-first was forming in extended 
order for its dash forward against the line of 
inner entrenchments from which the Spanish 
must be dislodged, as they were ponring in a 
deadly fire upon onr men. The regiments hold- 
ing the line on San Juan Hill cheered wildly as 
the Thirty-first went down the further slope of 
the hill at double time, dashed across the open, 
scrambling under and over the barbed-wire ob- 
structions, and then up the crest of the hill to 
the front. The Spaniards had made an effort 
here to reform their scattered ranks, but as the 
Thirty-first came at them with its terrible 
American yell (the Spanish officers afterward 


San Juan Hill. 


113 


said their men were even more afraid of the 
Americano yell than of their bullets, which 
were fired with such deadly aim), the Spaniards 
were panic-stricken, and in spite of the gallant 
efforts of their ofiicers to rally them, they fled in 
mad haste, leaving their ammunition, flags and 
rations in their abandoned trenches. 

And here on the crest of this hill, nameless 
on the maps, unde? a galling fire by the enemy 
from a dozen entrenched positions, the Thirty- 
first, with shouts of victory, took up its position, 
nearer Santiago by several hundred yards than 
any other regiment on the line, and in the evacu- 
ated Spanish entrenchments, midst wild ap- 
plause, Tommy planted the regimental colors. 
But the boy’s heart was sick within him. He 
saw always his dear old father lying cold and si- 
lent, and the thought of his mother’s heart- 
broken grief when this terrible news should 
reach her almost unmanned him. And yet there 
was little time for thinking of aught else but 


114 


San Juan Hill. 


fighting. The regiment was in a very exposed 
position, subject to a fiank fire, and men and 
ofiicers were falling all around him. 

But somehow it did not seem real to Tommy. 
He felt as if he were at a theater, looking on at 
a very sensational play, with real soldiers and 
real bullets fiying around; and amid it all he 
kept thinking of his dead father and that brave 
young Spanish officer, who had stood erect in. a 
perfect hailstorm of bullets calmly striving to 
rally his men. His face was stamped upon 
Tommy’s mind like a photograph. Somehow, 
he knew not why, he thought of these two, his 
father and the Spanish officer, together. 

The enemy kept up its terrific fire until the 
sun dipped suddenly behind the surrounding 
hills, and the dense tropical night was upon 
them. 

Tommy received permission to go back and 
find his father’s body, and several of the men 
volunteered to accompany him, exhausted 


San Juan Hill, 


115 


though they were with the fatigue of that day’s 
fight. The little party went back to their posi- 
tion on the firing line, and found Sergeant Col- 
lins just as they had left him, but with that 
strange look of peace on his face which the dead 
so often have. 

The men left Tommy alone with his dead 
for a few moments. His heartbroken sobs wrung 
their hearts. Presenty he called them to come, 
and while they were digging a soldier’s grave for 
the comrade whom they had loved and respected. 
Tommy searched for the spot where he had seen 
the Spanish officer fall. He found him with his 
handsome, distinguished face turned up to the 
dim light of the dusky night. Silently, in obe- 
dience to Tommy’s request, they carried the 
body of their fallen foe, and laid him alongside 
the old Sergeant in their hastily-prepared grave. 

Tommy had taken from his father’s body a 
gold medal of the Sacred Heart and his watch, 
as priceless mementoes for his mother. He also 


116 


San Juan Hill. 


carefully removed the sword of the Spanish offi- 
cer, a handsome gold and enamel decoration, 
and his watch, so that he might identify him 
and send the sad tokens to his family. 

The grave was soon filled in and marked with 
a 31 in small stones. Then Tommy knelt 
and offered a prayer for the two who lay there 
so quietly, friend and foe, in their last sleep. 

Thoroughly worn out, the little burial party 
retraced their steps to the line held by the 
Thirty-first, and soon forgot sorrow, fatigue 
and all in the deep sleep of utter exhaustion. 
None of them had a bite of anything to eat save 
hard bread, which the fortunate possessors 
shared with their comrades. There was no cof- 
fee, for it was dangerous to show the light of 
fires, but a brave volunteer force had gone back 
to the creek at the foot of the hill, under a con- 
tinuous fire, and filled the canteens. So the 
men had water, and were grateful for that. 


CHAPTEE VIIL 


SANTIAGO. 

When Tommy awoke at the first hint of 
dawn, he wondered that he had been able to 
sleep so long, for the enemy’s fire was already 
fierce, and shells were bursting over their heads 
every moment. Near him was a group of Span- 
ish prisoners, captured the day before. They 
were chattering away, almost merrily, glad to 
be alive, for they had expected they would be 
shot at once, their officers having assured them 
that such was the custom of the savage Ameri- 
canos. 

Hoping to discover the name and rank of the 
young officer whom they had buried the night 
before. Tommy approached the little group of 
Spaniards. Why, they are boys, just like me, 
all of them,” was our hero’s first thought. “No; 
117 


118 Santiago, 

not like me, poor wretches. They look as if 
they had been starved for months,” which was 
near the truth, as their emaciated bodies plainly 
showed. Bidding them Good morning ! ” in 
Spanish, Tommy was soon chatting with them, 
exchanging experiences of the fight of the pre- 
vious day. Wondering if they could identify 
the monogram on the back of the Spanish offi- 
cer’s gold watch, also the initials on the decora- 
tion, Tommy took them out and showed them. 

“ To be sure we know them,” spoke up a vol- 
uble little Corporal of infantry. He was a 
captain in our regiment, the Marquis de Men- 
doza. The Senora, his mother-in-law, is a very 
great lady. She lives not far from here at the 
Hacienda Martinez.” 

As soon as Tommy heard the name of the 
dead officer he knew he was Mercedes’ Spanish 
uncle, and the old Senora, great and wealthy, 
was now poor, for she had lost a powerful pro- 
tector. Tommy’s eyes filled with tears at the 


Santiago, 


119 


strange coincidence of his father and the young 
Spanish grandee sharing a humble soldier^s 
grave. He walked hastily away from the little 
group, hut not before they had seen the tears 
and wondered at them, until some one explained 
to them that his father had been killed the day 
before. Then they wondered no longer but 
sympathized. The prisoners, their guard, two 
or three slightly wounded soldiers and several of 
the Cuban allies were huddled under cover of 
the rear slope of the hill. It was the safest spot 
they could find, but the bullets were dropping 
everywhere. 

Tommy picked up a discarded Krag,” whose 
owner was lying stark and stiff not far away, 
and with a full ammunition belt made his way 
slowly to the front line of entrenchments. 
Crawling close to the ground most of the way, 
he slipped into G Company trench, because it 
happened to be color company” that day. 
Tommy’s charges, the two silken banners flut- 


1^0 Sanitago. 

tering so gaily in the soft morning air, were 
waving from the top of G Company trench. As 
the boy slipped qnietly into place a familiar 
voice said, Tommy, lad, I^m glad to see you, 
but I wish you were in a safer spot.^^ The voice 
was Mr. Bently’s, but Tommy could hardly rec- 
ognize in this blue-shirted, grimy-faced man the 
immaculate dude of the Thirty-first. Mr. 
Bently was the crack shot of the Thirty-first. 
He had won all the different medals the 
Government allowed him to compete for. The 
men admired his skill immensely, and they were 
more than glad to have his advice. He directed 
their fire as calmly and quietly as if they were 
on their own target range at home, and every 
little while he would jump out of the trench and 
stand for a moment, watching the fire of his 
men, correcting their sights and telling them to 
aim higher or lower, as the case might be. 
Every time the young officer stood there his ap- 
pearance was the signal for a perfect hailstorm 


Santiago. 


121 


of bullets; but as the day wore on to its close, 
and he was still untouched, the men thought 
he must bear a charmed life, for the regi- 
ment had lost heavily that day in killed and 
wounded. 

The heat, too, was almost unbearable. At 
one time during the day, the whole of H Com- 
pany, which occupied a large, flat rock, with no 
cover from the tropical sun, was prostrated, and 
the Colonel called for volunteers to take water 
to them. Every man in the line wanted to go, 
so Mr. Brownson had to pick them out. He 
chose those who seemed the strongest. 

As the Adjutant stood there with the bullets 
pattering like hail around him, Mr. Bently 
called out, impatiently : For heaven’s sake, 
man, take off your blouse ! Your shoulder 
straps are simply a target for those Spanish 
sharpshooters in our rear, to say nothing of the 
heat. Take it off ! ” 

But that young officer only smiled and shook 


122 


Saniiago. 


his head. Nothing would have induced him to 
discard his blouse, for safely sewn in the pocket 
of it was a badge of the Sacred Heart and a 
medal of Our Lady of Victory,” which his 
dear young wife had made him promise to wear 
while away from her. 

Tommy was gazing at the young officer with 
affectionate, admiring eyes, when suddenly he 
felt a sharp blow on his right arm, so powerful 
that his rifle dropped from his hands. 

What did you hit me for ? ” he asked 
angrily of his near neighbor. This is no time 
for fooling.” 

I guess Mr. Mauser’s the fellow who done 
it. Tommy, and not me,” was the good-natured 
but solicitous reply. Let me see. Yes ; your 
right arm is pretty well knocked out, young 
man. Here, give me your ^ first aid,’ and I’ll 
fix you up till you get to the doctor.” And 
Tommy’s comrade with deft fingers cut off the 
sleeve of his blue shirt and applied to the in- 


Santiago, 


123 


jured arm the first aid/^ which every soldier 
in the Fifth Corps carried. 

There, Tommy, me boy ; I guess thatll do 
ye till ye get to the doctor. This is the tenth 
I’ve put on to-day. I think after the fighting is 
over I’ll apply for the medical corps.” 

I’m not going to the rear for such a scratch 
as this,” replied Tommy, stoutly, though he had 
lost a good deal of blood, and felt sick and 
faint. 

Just then a voice from the trench in front of 
them called out ; My God ! Lieutenant Brown- 
son’s hit ! ” 

It was only too true. Tommy, forgetting 
his own injury, ran toward the wounded officer, 
but Mr. Bently was already at his side. 

“ Dear old fellow, where are you hit ? ” 

There was no reply. Then Tommy heard him 
murmur, If only it were I.” 

^^Eun for the doctor,” Mr. Bently com- 
manded, and Tommy, heedless of shells and 


124 Santiago. 

bullets, soon brought the regimental Surgeon. 
Mr. Brownson had recovered consciousness by 
the time the wound was dressed. He had been 
shot through the chest, the bullet coming out at 
the left shoulder. He declared that nothing 
would induce nim to go to the hospital. In the 
mean time Colonel Tennant had been sent for. 
He at once put an end to the discussion by 
ordering Mr. Brownson to the hospital, and 
Tommy was ordered to take him there and stay 
with him. 

Not a word, Billy,’^ said the Colonel. You 
are badly wounded, and of no use on the firing 
line, and I\e Marian to think of, and so have 
you. As for Tommy, a soldier with his right 
arm useless is of no use either, and if possible 
I want to get Tommy Collins safe home. I 
shall never be able to look Mollie Col- 
lins in the face as it is. So off with you; I’m 
proud of you both; you’ve done enough, God 
knows.” 


Santiago. 125 

This was a long speech for the Colonel, and 
meant a great deal coming from him. 

May we wait until dusk, Colonel ? Mr. 
Brownson asked, meekly enough. It may dis- 
hearten the men to see so many wounded taken 
off.’’ 

Yes,” replied the Colonel, gruffly. Then he 
walked off abruptly. 

Poor old man ! They told him you were 
killed, Billy,” remarked Mr. Bently. It was 
a terrible shock to him. He was as white as a 
sheet.” 

Well, so long. I must get in a few more 
shots at the Dons before night comes. Here, 
Tommy, take good care of your patient, and 
when you get back to the States do, for good- 
ness’ sake, send me a toothbrush.” 

Good by, Jim ; for heaven’s sake, don’t ex- 
pose yourself so recklessly. Come on. Tommy; 
it will be dark in a few moments and we will 
have to crawl to the rear,” 


126 Santiago. 

The two men shook hands warmly. Mr. 
Bently turned to the young soldier and said 
gently: You’ve fought bravely to-day, 

Tommy. Your name is on my list for distin- 
guished gallantry. You forgot your great sor- 
row and did your duty nobly.” 

It was some two hours later. The two 
wounded men had slowly and painfully made 
their way toward the nearest field hospital, but, 
weakened by the loss of blood and their long 
fast (for neither Mr. Brownson nor Tommy 
had had more than a mouthful of hard bread, 
snatched at odd moments, since the morning 
of the day before), both had sunk to the ground 
on the side of the main trail, utterly exhausted. 

Mr. Brownson had mercifully lost conscious- 
ness, but Tommy only partially so, when he felt 
some one finger the little silver figure of St. 
Joseph which he had hung from the leather 
watch-chain he wore. Then he heard some 
Cubans speaking energetically about St. Joseph 


Santiago. 127 

and Americanos, and expressing gratitude for 
the saving of some child. It was all very con- 
fused and incoherent, but Tommy understood 
sufficiently to realize that the intentions of the 
Cubans were friendly. Then he, too, lost con- 
sciousness entirely. 


CHAPTER IX. 


HACIENDA MARTINEZ. 

When our hero opened his eyes it was to 
find himself lying in a cool, darkened room. His 
bed was a huge four-poster, but very comfort- 
able after so many nights of sleeping on the 
ground. At the further end of the long room 
stood a similar bed, and by the side of it sat the 
stately old Senora Martinez, saying her rosary. 

suppose I am dreaming,” thought poor 
Tommy ; but I do wish Miss Mercedes would 
come in before I wake up.” As if in answer, 
the door into the hall opened, and the young girl 
appeared, carrying a bowl of steaming broth, 
which smelled very appetizing. Tommy invol- 
untarily exclaimed : I guess this can^t be a 
dream after all ; that stuff smells too good.” 

Mercedes laughed merrily. Indeed, no ; 

128 


Hacienda Martinez. 


129 


this broth is real enough. My last chicken has 
gone into it.” 

How did I get here, and where is my Lieu- 
tenant?” began Tommy in a bewildered man- 
ner. 

But Mercedes put her finger to her lips to 
motion silence. ^^You must eat before you 
speak. The Lieutenant has already been fed; 
but you have slept so heavily I began to think 
you would never wake up.” 

Very daintily and gently did the young girl 
feed her patients. Tommy was ravenous, and 
would have swallowed the bowlful at once, but 
Mercedes insisted upon giving him a teaspoon- 
ful at a time. 

The Senora doctor’s orders,” she said 
gaily, nodding toward her grandmother, who 
was watching them with a smile. 

Obey orders. Tommy,” said a familiar 
voice from the other bed, which Tommy at once 
recognized, with a feeling of intense satisfac- 


130 


Hacienda Martinez. 


tion. So long as he and Mr. Brownson were to- 
gether he did not care much what happened. 

After his breakfast the Sehora redressed his 
wonnded arm and allowed him to get up. She 
was very skilful and looked at the boy so ten- 
derly that he felt as if he could not tell her of 
her son-in-law’s death, just then anyway. He 
would tell Mr. Brownson the whole story, and 
that officer would know how to break the sad 
news, and give her the dead officer’s watch and 
decoration. The sword Tommy had left with 
his rifle on the firing line, leaning against the 
G Company trench. 

Later in the morning, Mercedes told him how 
he and the wounded officer had been brought to 
the hacienda. You owe it to the little St. 
Joseph you wear hanging from your watch- 
chain,” she said, and then continued: ^^if you 
do not mind, tell me how you happen to be 
wearing it. I am very curious.” 

So Tommy told her the sad little story of the 


Hacienda Martinez. 


131 


gallant young American Sergeant; but even 
Tommy did not know the whole of that story. 
It was not until a stately old nun away up in 
the Adirondacks told her portion of it that the 
story was finished, and the sweet, sad-faced 
mother of the young Sergeant had said softly: 

I am glad my boy met his death so. God will 
forgive him much.” 

" This little image, rudely carved as it is,” 
resumed Mercedes, ^^is considered a precious 
relic among the Cubans. It is supposed to have 
been carved by the first Indian converts after 
Columbus discovered the New World. If you 
look closely you can make out the date 14 — and 
something. That poor mother was giving her 
most precious treasure to the man who had 
saved the life of her little one. The Cubans 
who found you and your Lieutenant (I do not 
know his name yet) unconscious by the side of 
the driveway which leads into our place were 
rather a bad set of men, too; hangers-on of 


m 


Hacienda Martinez. 


Garcia’s army; not soldiers, yon understand.” 
Tommy nodded assent. He had discovered that 
the Cubans were very sensitive as to the distinc- 
tion made between the Cuban soldiers and the 
irresponsible followers of the Cuban army, who 
were thieves and loafers, and some even worse. 
Such was Jose, Pete Newell’s companion. 

Well these guerillas were all for giving both 
the Lieutenant and you a final knock on the 
head. Not that they confessed that much to me, 
but I know them well. Then they intended 
quietly removing your valuables. The Cubans 
believe that every American has his pockets 
filled with gold pieces. Fortunately one of them 
discovered the miraculous image, as they call it, 
and being very superstitious, they believed that 
something terrible would happen to them if they 
harmed any one wearing the St. Joseph. So they 
not only left you and your companion unharmed 
(you had fallen with your arm thrown protect- 
ingly over the officer’s shoulder), but not un- 


Hacienda Martinez, 


133 


willing to gain favor with the powerful St. 
Joseph by helping his proteges, they brought 
you here. The natives believe the Senora to be 
better than any doctor. I’m not sure they do not 
think her a witch, and her simple remedies 
magic. That is the whole story, Senor Ameri- 
cano, and now that you and the officer have been 
brought to our hacienda sick and wounded, the 
little grandmother will actually love you. See 
now, how well and happy she looks. Nursing 
is certainly her forte, for she loves it.” 

More than ever Tommy felt that he could not 
be the one to tell the Senora of Senor Mendoza’s 
death. He would let matters rest for awhile 
at any rate. 

^^And now, Senor Tommy” (she had the 
boy’s name very pat), for your story. All we 
know of the fight is what Cuban stragglers, who 
have never been near the firing, I am convinced, 
have told us. I am dying with impatience and 
curiosity to know what has happened. Grand- 


134 


Hacienda Martinez. 


mother would not allow me to ask the wounded 
officer any questions. She says he must be 
kept very quiet.^’ 

Instantly, Master Tommy was filled with 
keen self-reproach. Gazing into Mercedes’ black 
eyes and listening to her sweet, half-foreign ac- 
cent, he had entirely forgotten Mr. Brownson, 
his particular charge, whom the Colonel had 
ordered him to take to the hospital. Asking the 
young girl to excuse him for a moment. Tommy, 
with tottering footsteps, hastened to the latter’s 
bedside, full of misgivings as to what would 
meet his eyes. The moment he caught sight of 
Mr. Brownson, however, he felt relieved. 

^^This is better than any field hospital. 
Tommy,” the young officer whispered, weakly. 

I’m all right, so don’t worry ; and even if I 
could I would not exchange my nurse for 
yours.” His eyes twinkled and Tommy blushed. 

The old lady is superb as a nurse. She has 
even forgotten that I am a hated Americano in 


Hacienda Martinez, 


135 


the interest my wound creates. She doesn’t un- 
derstand one word of English, though, which is 
a drawback.” 

Do you know, sir, these are the very people 
Pete Newell was trying to rob? ” asked Tommy 
inquiringly. 

Yes, Tommy. I understand. You are quite 
a hero in Miss Mercedes’ eyes. Beautiful eyes 
they are, too,” he added. “ Now go and tell the 
ladies the result of our fight for Santiago. They 
are both impatient to hear the news; but the 
grandmother, anxious as she is, would not allow 
me to talk. It will be a bitter blow to the proud 
old Senora. She has refused to credit the re- 
ports brought here by the Cubans.” 

^^But, Lieutenant, our victory is not the 
worst of the news. That Spanish officer who 
was killed as we charged the hill was the Se- 
nora’s son-in-law.” 

Mr. Brownson gave a low whistle, expressive 
of surprise and consternation. How did you 


136 


Hacienda Martinez, 


learn his name. Tommy? He was a brave fel- 
low. God rest his soul ! ” for the American offi- 
cer remembered well the conspicuous gallantry 
of the handsome, young Spanish officer, who 
had fallen beneath the fierce charge of the 
Thirty-first. 

" From some Spanish prisoners of his regi- 
ment, sir. I have his watch and some foreign 
decoration in my blouse pocket with my father’s 
watch, which I am taking home to my mother.” 
And Tommy related the whole story, and when 
he had finished begged Mr. Brownson to break 
the news to the ladies. But that officer de- 
murred. 

Tell your story to Miss Mercedes, lad. Then 
she had best tell her grandmother. The Senora 
can not help but feel very kindly toward you for 
the burial you gave Captain Mendoza, really at 
the risk of your life.” 

So Tommy told his story, his round, boyish 
face strangely pale and drawn from the pain 


Hacienda Martinez. 


137 


and exhaustion he had suffered. His voice, 
which thrilled with excitement as he told of that 
glorious charge up San Juan, soon broke and 
choked with sobs as he told his absorbed lis- 
teners of his father’s gallant death. As the boy- 
paused here to gain control of his feelings, the 
Sehora laid her hand tenderly upon his shoulder, 
saying in her soft, aristocratic Spanish : My 
poor boy ; my poor, brave boy ! ” whilst Mercedes 
took his hand and pressed it softly in both of 
hers, the tears rolling unheeded down her 
cheeks. This tender sympathy made poor 
Tommy feel that his task of breaking the sad 
news to the ladies was harder than ever. . 

When he began his account of the gallant, 
handsome, young Spanish officer, who had at- 
tracted the attention of the Thirty-first by the 
heroic stand he had made with a mere handful 
of men, the Senora was intensely interested. 
Something in the boy’s voice and the pitying 
looks he cast upon her gave her an intuition of 


138 


Hacienda Martinez. 


what was coming. She let him finish, however, 
but when he told of the burial party and of the 
grave on the battlefield which held the Ameri- 
can soldier and the Spanish officer, the poor Se- 
nora was weeping softly. 

I have the Spanish officer’s watch and his 
insignia,” concluded Tommy. Then he stopped. 
He did not know how to end his tale. He was 
some one you knew, Senora,” he began, desper- 
ately. 

know, I know,” whispered the Senora, 
brokenly. “ You would tell it to me kindly, I 
know; but he was my son Julius. Am I not 
right? ” 

For answer. Tommy placed in her trembling 
hands the watch and the decoration. “ I have 
his sword, too; but it is on the firing line with 
my rifie. I could not bring it away.” 

Presently the Senora went away to pray be- 
fore her oratory, to ask help and strength to 
bear the trials and sorrows that had come to her 


Hacienda Martinez. 


139 


in her old age, and bowed low her haughty 
spirit. The crushing defeat of her country was 
a bitter and utterly unexpected blow. Her 
daughter was left desolate and a widow, and 
she, her mother, could not go to her. 

Soon Mercedes stole softly into her grand- 
mother's room, where, falling upon her knees, 
she joined in the solemn, but soothing prayers 
for the dead, and as Mercedes’ tears mingled 
with those of her grandmother, all their differ- 
ences were forgotten in a mutual sorrow. It 
healed the breach were even love had not been 
able to do so. 

Several days passed swiftly by at the Hacien- 
da Martinez. The two patients were doing very 
well, but they were as much cut off from news 
of the outside world as if they had been on an- 
other continent. In vain the Senora had tried 
to find some one to carry a message to her 
daughter in Santiago. Not a soul came near the 
house, and although Tommy was able to creep 


140 


Hacienda Martinez. 


slowly around the house, he could do no more. 
Lieutenant Brownson fumed and fretted over 
this lack of news, and also at being unable to re- 
port to the authorities his and young Collins’ 
whereabouts. 

On the morning of July 11, after eight days 
of silence, which indicated a truce of some kind, 
they were awakened by the sound of terrific 
artillery fire, which kept up that entire day. 
That evening the Senora, who had been watch- 
ing Mr. Brownson most anxiously all day, beck- 
oned Tommy out on the veranda. Yellow 
fever,” she said in a low tone of voice, pointing 
to the Lieutenant’s tall, spare form, now tossing 
uneasily from side to side. 

Tommy’s heart sank like lead. Yellow fever, 
the horror of the Fifth Corps, was dreaded far 
more than Spanish bullets. 

Do not look so, my boy,” said the Senora, 
kindly. I have nursed many a ease. With 
God’s help, I will bring him safely through. 


Hacienda Martinez, 


141 


You have been exposed to the infection, but 
Mercedes fortunately has not.’^ The young girl 
had been forbidden the sick room after the first 
few days. 

Then came a week of terrible anxiety and 
suspense. Mr. Brownson raved in delirium, and 
it took both the Senora and Tommy to hold him 
in bed. Mercedes implored them to allow her 
to go in search of help, but this her grandmother 
sternly forbade. Finally the crisis came and 
passed, and the young officer, now conscious, 
but so weak he could not stir a finger, began to 
mend slowly. 

Fortunately Tommy did not take the fever, 
but both he and the Senora were utterly ex- 
hausted. It was then that Mercedes felt she 
must do something. 

Early one morning she set out to find an 
American officer to ask for help. She had just 
reached the main road leading to Santiago, 
when she saw coming toward her an elderly 


142 


Hacienda Martinez, 


American gentleman, in a yachting uniform, 
accompanied by several of his crew. The gentle- 
man and the young girl gazed at each other with 
mutual astonishment. Then the gentleman 
said, quite audibly : Of course, she can’t un- 
derstand English ; so she will be of no use.” 

Pardon me, sir ; but I am an American,” 
said Mercedes, with a glint of amusement in her 
black eyes. What can I do to help you ? ” 
‘^You speak Spanish, too, of course?” re- 
plied the old gentleman. 

Si, Senor.” 

I am here on a sad errand, young lady. I 
am searching for my son’s body. He was a 
Sergeant in Colonel Wood’s regiment — the 
Eough Eiders, they call them,” he spoke in an 
abrupt, sharp way, as if trying to conceal his 
emotion. His mother wishes to have her boy 
home, and I am here on my yacht to take him. 
I know about where the grave is — ^his comrades 
marked it — but I want some Cubans to help 


Hacienda Martinez. 


143 


me. If you could help me make them under- 
stand, I would be greatly obliged.” 

‘^Was your son’s name Van Dusen?” asked 
the girl, her big, black eyes soft with unshed 
tears. 

^^Yes, yes! Can you tell me anything of 
my boy ? ” 

I can bring you to one, a young American 
soldier, who was with your son when he fell,” 
Mercedes replied. Come,” and leading the 
way back to the hacienda, she told her new- 
found friend the history of the past two weeks. 

Grandmother thinks the Lieutenant will 
die if he does not get away from here at once,” 
she concluded, as they entered the house. 

“I will take him home with me,” said Mr. 
Van Dusen. Also the young soldier who is 
with him.” No horror of a so-called hospital 
ship for these two at any rate.” 

The whole country had just been stirred to 
its depths by the arival at Port Tampa of the 


144 


Hacienda Martinez. 


first horror ship with its load of wounded and 
dying from Santiago. 

The morning was spent in telling the events 
of the past two weeks. Our friends did not even 
know of the surrender of Santiago which had 
occurred the day before. 

Tommy told the heartbroken father of his 
son^s gallant end, and gave him the little statue 
of St. Joseph. 

I shall send this to a dear old nun up in 
the Adirondacks,” said Mr. Van Dusen. She 
has been my boy’s good angel, and she and 
her orphans will never forget to pray for 
him.” 

Mr. Van Dusen offered to take the whole 
family to the United States, advising the Se- 
nora that it would be best for her to leave 
Cuba until a more settled state of affairs was 
reached. 

The poor old lady agreed, if only they could 
get word to her daughter to join them. This 


Hacienda Martinez. 


145 


Mr. Van Dusen promised to do, also to obtain 
permission from the proper authorities for 
Lieutenant Brownson and Private Collins to 
leave for the United States. 

Hard work, influence and money will accom- 
plish wonders, even in the tropics ; so three days 
after Mercedes’ meeting with Mr. Van Dusen 
found our friends aboard the steam yacht 

Lady Anne,” ready to set sail for home. The 
Senora and her widowed daughter, Madame 
Mendoza, stood in the stern as the vessel 
steamed slowly out of the harbor, gazing with 
tear-dimmed eyes at the fast-receding shores of 
the country which held the cold, silent forms of 
their loved ones. But the rest of the little party 
were looking eagerly forward at the great gray 
warships of the American fleet which had made 
the victory of Santiago possible. 

The attitudes of the two groups was indica- 
tive of the moods of the two nations at that 
time. The Spanish people looking backward 


146 


Hacienda Martinez. 


at their glorious past of conquest and coloniza- 
tion; the Americans looking forward to a new 
era of conquest and expansion. 

Presently Mercedes went back to where her 
grandmother stood. The young girl put her 
arms lovingly around her and said : Darling, 
darling Grandmother and you, dearest Aunt, 
turn the other way. Look forward! I will do 
all I can to make your new home happy. Prom- 
ise, Grandmother, promise me,” Mercedes was 
crying softly now, that you will be happy in 
our new home.” 

8i, Mercedes; si Dios quiere/'* was the sad 
reply. 

Just then, across the water, faint but distinct, 
came the sound of music. The band from one 
of the warships was playing The Star- 
Spangled Banner ” at evening colors.” 

It is God’s will. Grandmother,” cried Mer- 
cedes. Listen ! ” The girl hummed softly 
♦ “ Yes, Mercedes; if it is God’s will.” 


Hacienda Martinez. 


147 


“ The land of the free/’ That is what we are 
going to do, begin a new life in a free land. 

God is good, and has left me much in my 
children,” said the Sehora. And the three 
women stood in silence, watching the sun sink 
slowly out of sight, and thinking sorrowfully of 
the past, but hopeful of the future. 


CHAPTEK X. 


HOME ! 

It was dawn of a beautiful morning in early 
August that the Lady Anne ” sighted the low 
coast of Long Island. A fresh land breeze, 
laden with the scent of grass, flowers and earth, 
that indescribable odor which betokens the ap- 
proach to land, swept over the yacht’s deck. 
Early as it was our little group of friends stood 
eagerly watching for the first glimpse of home. 

Soon the white-tented fields of the great camp 
at Montauk Point came into view, and before 
long they were overhauled by the Quarantine 
boat. 

Lieutenant Brownson and Tommy were or- 
dered to the detention camp; the remainder of 
the party, the health officers decided, would not 
be allowed to land. It would be better that they 
148 


Home, 


149 


should remain with Mr. Van Dusen and land 
in New York, where they had friends. 

With warmest thanks and many promises of 
seeing each other before long, Mr. Brownson 
and Tommy said good-by to the ladies and Mr. 
Van Dusen. As the yacht steamed up to the 
dock Tommy caught sight of two familiar faces. 

Mother ! ” he called, excitedly, though he 
knew she couldn’t hear him. Oh, sir ; it’s 
Miss Marian, too — I mean Mrs. Brownson,” 
and both waved frantically to their dear ones, 
in whose loving arms they were soon clasped a 
few moments later. 

Mollie Collins had meant to be very brave and 
cheerful when she met her boy, and Mrs. Brown- 
son had declared to Mollie over and over again 
that nothing would induce her to weep. Army 
wives should learn to control their feelings. 
But the first sight of their returned heroes was 
too much for them; in spite of all their good 
resolutions, both women broke down and sobbed 


150 


Home. 


openly. Gaunt, yellow-skinned, hollow-eyed, 
with that peculiar look on their faces which doc- 
tors and nurses soon learned to distinguish as 
the Cuban look,^^ these two. man and boy, were 
simply wrecks of their former selves. 

A busy Surgeon was waiting to give them 
another examination. Mrs. Brownson stood by 
her husband’s side, holding his thin, brown 
hand, waiting anxiously for the doctor’s verdict. 
She had told him of her husband having just 
recovered from yellow fever, and had begged 
that he might not be sent to the detention camp, 
but that she should be allowed to take him home 
at once. 

How long were you coming up from 
Cuba ? ” asked the doctor. 

“ Ten days, fully,” replied Mr. Brownson. 

Very good. Madam, you may take the next 
train home.” 

So Mr. and Mrs. Brownson bade Tommy and 
his mother a hurried farewell, and catching a 


Home. 


151 


passing wagon they started for the station. 
Neither was burdened with much baggage. Mrs. 
Brownson had a hand satchel and her husband 
literally what he had on his back. It was all he 
brought back from Cuba. 

The doctor started on Tommy next. He shook 
his head, and said to Mrs. Collins : The boy^s 
temperature is 104. He must go to the gen- 
eral hospital, and then he put Tommy through 
a rapid questioning. 

Typhoid, I am afraid. You may go with 
your son, Mrs. Collins, and help nurse him.’^ 
Poor Tommy had been feeling very badly 
for several days ; but he had been sure that home 
and mother would cure him. 

The doctor called up a Eed Cross ambulance, 
and Tommy was carried off to the hospital. 

I know you want to know all about dear 
father’s death. I have his badge and his watch 
in my pocket for you, mother dear,” said 
Tommy. 


152 


Home. 


‘‘ The Colonel wrote me, dear lad/^ she shook 
with deep heartrending sobs ; but now, dearie, 
you must not excite yourself. I will wait until 
you are better.’^ The unselfish mother-love 
helped her to conceal her loving anxiety to hear 
the details of her beloved husband^s brave death. 
The living needed her now, and she must save 
her strength for the ordeal of nursing. She had 
tried to bear her great sorrow bravely, but the 
pale cheeks and hollow eyes told of sleepless 
nights spent in the agony of tears. 

At Mrs. Collins’ request Tommy was assigned 
to one of the wards in charge of the Sisters of 
Charity, and here for many long, weary days 
he fought the battle of life and death. In his 
delirium he fought the fights of Las Guasimas 
and San Juan over and over. 

^^If I had the Eough Eider’s St. Joseph I 
would not burn so all the time,” he would mut- 
ter. But it is lost, lost ; and I must find it,” 
he would say, trying to get out of bed to search 


Home. 


153 


for the lost treasure. The only one who could 
quiet him was the Sister in charge. In a dim 
way Tommy seemed to know her. 

Are you the dear old nun up in the Adiron- 
dacks?’^ he would ask, remembering Mr. Van 
Dusen’s remark. 

I am one of her daughters/’ Sister Beatrice 
would reply, laying her cool, soft hand upon 
the boy’s burning brow. 

His mother nursed him with unfailing care, 
not half eating or sleeping until the crisis was 
over, and Tommy, weak but with his mind per- 
fectly clear, whispered Let’s go home, 
mother.” 

Early in September the Thirty-first arrived 
from Cuba, and several of the men were sent to 
Ward No. 5; so Tommy kept in touch with the 
regimental news, and before long Colonel Ten- 
nant, Mr. Bently, and several of the officers 
had been to see him and cheer him up. 

It did his mother good to see how much they 


154 


Home. 


thought of her boy, and though her heart was 
sore and broken at the death of her husband, 
the honors shown Tommy could not fail to 
cheer her up. 

Two or three days later Sister Beatrice came 
into the big hospital tent, which was called offi- 
cially, ^^Ward No. 5,” but which the patients 
who were its fortunate inmates had dubbed 
“ Paradise Ward,^’ in a pleasant state of excite- 
ment. The President was coming to visit the 
Fifth Corps at Montauk Point, to thank them 
in person for their glorious victory at Santiago, 
and to visit in particular the sick officers and 
soldiers of his command to see what more could 
be done for them. A feeble cheer went up from 
Ward No. 5, and although everything was- as 
clean and neat as was possible in a tent on the 
sandy plains. Sister Beatrice and the four 
other Sisters went to work cleaning and pol- 
ishing everything they could lay their hands 
on. 


Home, 


155 


Sister Beatrice wrote out a list of wants for 
which she was determined to ask the President. 
Not that the state of affairs at Mont auk Point 
was at all as described by some of the news- 
papers; but in a convalescent camp of fifteen 
thousand men necessarily there were deficiencies 
and often a lack of necessaries. 

Indeed, Sister Beatrice often shook her head 
ruefully at the quantity of supplies sent her, 
and said, laughingly: We have more than we 
can use of the luxuries of life. If we can only 
get the necessities ! ” 

Paradise Ward ” was afraid it would rain, 
and so spoil their chance of a personal visit 
from the President, for they were some little 
distance from the big general hospital tent. 
Many hearty prayers were said, even the non- 
Catholics joining. 

The great morning arrived at last, bright 
and sunny, a perfect, balmy September morn- 
ing. 


156 


Home. 


About nine o^clock the artillery began firing a 
salute. Tommy counted the guns carefully, and 
when the last one had boomed out he gave a 
sigh of contentment. 

Twenty-one guns. That’s the President’s 
salute, all right.” 

It seemed a long time to the impatient in- 
valids before the sound of martial music her- 
alded the President’s approach. Then the sen- 
tries on duty as hospital guard called out in 
stentorian tones : Turn out the guard for the 
President of the United States.” 

Tommy, who was propped up in bed, caught 
a glimpse of the President’s carriage, drawn by 
four prancing white horses. The familiar face 
of the Chief Executive looked worn and white. 
The responsibilities of the past year had evi- 
dently borne heavily upon him. 

Three cheers for President McKinley ! ” he 
called out in a weak voice, that couldn’t have 
been heard twenty feet away. But his enthusi- 


Home. 


157 


asm was catching, and Ward No. 5 cook up the 
cheering promptly. Colonel Tennant^s with 
them, too. Now they’re coming, fellows ! 
They’re coming ! ” called Tommy, excitedly, 
and in another moment the President was walk- 
ing down the row of white cots, shaking hands 
with each soldier, and saying a word or two to 
each one. When he reached Tommy’s bed he 
paused a moment, then said heartily to Colonel 
Tennant, who was shaking Tommy’s hand: 

This is young Collins.” 

I want to thank you in Mrs. McKinley’s 
name for carrying her colors so bravely at San- 
tiago, and to say for myself that so gallant a 
Color-bearer must carry a sword. Would you 
like to go to West Point, young sir? ” 

Tommy had turned red, then white, with the 
excitement and delight of the moment. 

Yes, sir,” was all he could say, in a weak, 
husky whisper; but his face was eloquent of the 
thanks which his voice could not speak. 


158 


Home. 


Mrs. Collins, who was standing by the side of 
the cot, seized the President's hand and mur- 
mured a fervent “ God bless you, sir.” 

I have heard of your brave husband’s death, 
Mrs. Collins,” continued the President. You 
may rest assured that the widow and son of 
Sergeant Collins will never be forgotten. Now, 
Sister,” turning to Sister Beatrice, who stood 
near, paper in hand, tell me what I can do for 
you.” 

And the President, with the two or three 
who were with him, stepped out in the open air, 
and Tommy, who had never taken his eyes from 
the President’s face, declared afterward that his 
eyes were filled with tears, and as Sister Bea- 
trice confirmed this when appealed to by her 
other patients, it was accepted as an awe-inspir- 
ing fact. The men spoke of it in reverent whis- 
pers for days afterward. 

But it was no wonder that strong men felt 
the tears come at that great camp of Montauk 


Home. 


159 


Point. Fifteen thousand sick and dying men, 
the flower of the army as they called them, the 
gallant Fifth Corps lay stricken; regiments 
which had gone to Cuba a thousand strong, 
lusty young men, brought back a few hundreds 
of fever-shaken, gaunt wrecks. 

When President McKinley made his memo- 
rable speech to the Fifth Corps, or what was 
left of it, as he reviewed it on the great plains 
of Montauk Point, the feeble, hoarse cheer that 
went up after it from the thin, fever-stricken 
men in the ranks who were strong enough to 
stand in line that day will never be forgotten 
by those visitors who heard it. 

As the Presidential party drove off a band of 
some regiment far off on the right struck up 
The Star-Spangled Banner.” Instantly the 
Corps stood silently at attention, the officers 
with bared heads. Then suddenly the music 
ceased. 

Forward, march ! ” came the quick, sharp 


160 


Home. 


order, and the regiments began their march 
back to their respective camps. 

Just then a small, red-headed newsboy, on a 
big mule, came dashing up the main road. 

Eeg’lers going home ! Eeg’lers going 
home ! ” he yelled, fiercely. His great stack of 
papers was gone in a minute. The good news 
was passed down the line, and as the regiments 
broke ranks at their respective camps, cheer 
after cheer went up. 

We’re going home ! we’re going home ! ” 
cried the men of the Thirty-first, running down 
the company streets to tell the good news to the 
men sick in their tents. 

A lady passing through the camp at that 
moment remarked to an officer who was with 
her: 

can’t see why you regulars make such a 
fuss about going home. You haven’t any homes 
to go to.” 

Oh, yes, we have. Madam. Our homes are 


Home. 


161 


where our sweethearts and wives are, at our 
army posts, and I don^t suppose there’s a fel- 
low here who is so badly off as not to have 
either.” 

Oh,” said the lady, tamely ; but she still 
thought that these regulars were making a great 
fuss over nothing. 

When the Thirty-first started home a few 
days later. Tommy and his mother went with 
them. The town of Mansfield gave them a 
royal welcome. E’othing was too good for our 
regiment.” 

The entire town was at the station to meet 
them, with private carriages for the soldiers 
too weak to walk, with bands and fiags and 
firecrackers. The ladies of the town had a 
splendid dinner ready for the men in their 
mess hall. With their own hands they waited 
upon these men who had fought and bled for 
the flag. 

Tommy soon began to make a rapid convales- 


162 


Home. 


cence in the bracing air of Lake Champlain. 
But for the absence of his dear father, the great 
events of the past summer began to seem almost 
like a dream. 

Then one day the mail brought him two let- 
ters which recalled the past summer in Cuba 
vividly enough. The first letter was from Mer- 
cedes Martinez asking Tommy to visit them at 
her grandfather’s in Massachusetts : Colonel 
Tennant has forwarded to my aunt her hus- 
band’s sword, which you left in your trench. 
It is a very dear relic to her, and she wishes me 
to thank you for saving it. Grandmother Mar- 
tinez especially begs of you to come. She finds 
life in the United States very novel and interest- 
in, so much so, she means to try a winter here,” 
concluded the young girl. 

Tommy had to decline the invitation, for he 
was busy getting ready for West Point. 

The second letter was from one of the Dolan 
boys, who, when mustered out of the Eough 


Home. 


163 


Riders, had enlisted in the Fourth Cavalry, 
hoping,’^ as he wrote, for a chance of a scrap 
in the Philippines/’ He wrote from the Dolan 
Ranch, near Fort Harding: 

I saw Mickey Flannigan. He’s in the Post 
hospital with Cuban malaria. He asked me to 
write you and say that when you graduated 
from West Point he would be there to see you, 
as he always told you from the time you were a 
kid that you were born to wear shoulder straps. 
He hopes you found ^ Nig ’ well and safe, and 
he says you need never worry about that Pete 
Newell any more, as the Cubans at Santiago 
found he was a spy and shot him without the 
ceremony of a court martial. Mickey says he 
took great pleasure in looking at it, for if ever 
a rascal got his just deserts Pete Newell, mur- 
derer, horse thief and spy, got his.” 

Tommy laughed, yet sighed, when he laid 
down the second characteristic epistle. The old 
life was over, but in the bright new one that 


164 


Home. 


was opening, with God’s help, he would do his 
duty as faithfully in the future as he had tried 
to in the past. He thought of his dead father 
with a tender sorrow. How proud that brave 
old soldier would have been to see his boy a 
cadet at West Point ! He thought of his 
mother, of her fine, strong character, which had 
made him what he was, and he mentally asked 
God that he might never forget what he owed 
his parents. 

The first call for retreat broke in upon 
Tommy’s reverie. The cannon boomed out its 
evening salute, and Tommy, bareheaded, stood 
so until the Stars and Stripes had been slowly 
lowered to the strains of The Star-Spangled 
Banner.” 

“ Long may it wave 

O’er the land of the free and the home of the 
brave! ” 

he repeated aloud. And may I be on hand to 
wave it if any fellow tries to pull it down. And 
now, Tommy, my boy,” he continued, soliloquiz- 


Home. 


165 


ing, ^^Your path for the next six months lies 
straight before you. Hard work, no shirking, 
and then West Point — if the President does not 
forget.'’’ 

Just then he caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. 
Brownson approaching. That officer was wav- 
ing a long, white official envelope at him, while 
his beloved Miss Marian — for he would forget 
and still call her by the old familiar name — was 
calling : It’s come. Tommy ; it’s come.” 

I salute you, my boy,” said Mr. Brownson, 
gravely handing him a formidable document 
from the War Department, which told him that 
he had been appointed as a cadet-at-large to 
West Point. I salute you no longer as ^ Ee- 
cruit Tommy Collins,’ nor ^ Color Guard Col- 
lins,’ but by your new title which you will as- 
sume before long. Cadet Thomas Collins, and 
may you take your hazing as your godfather 
did, with due submission and respect to your 
superior officers.” 


166 


Home, 


And here we must leave our hero, surrounded 
by kind friends, and with a bright future 
ahead of him, for the boy^s story is written 
and the man’s story ahead of him yet to be 
written. 


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Ethelred Preston. o 85 

Claude Lightfoot. o 85 

Harry Dee. o 85 

Tom Playfair. o 85 

Percy Wynn. o 85 

Mostly Boys. o 8s 

Fisherman’s Daughter. o 45 

Five O’CLOCK Stories; or. The Old Tales Told Again. o 75 

Flower of the Flock, The, and the Badgers of Belmont. Maurice 
F. Egan. o 85 

Fred’s Little Daughter. Sara Trainer Smith. o 40 

Gertrude’s Experience. o 45 

Godfrey the Hermit. Canon Schmid. o 25 

Golden Lily, The. Hinkson. o 45 


9 


Great-Grandmother’s Secret. o 45 

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Her Father’s Right Hand. o 45 

Hop Blossoms. Canon Schmid. o 25 

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How They Worked Their Way. Matirice F. Egan. o 7 ^ 

Inundation, The. Canon Schmid. o 40 

Jack Hildreth Among the Indians. 2 vofs. Each, o 85 

Jack Hildreth on the Nile. Marion Ames Taggart. Cloth, o 85 
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Juvenile Round Table. i 00 

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Lamp of the Sanctuary. Cardinal Wiseman. o 25 

Legends of the Holy Child Jesus from Many Lands. A. Fowler 
Lutz. o 75 

Little Missy. Mary T. Waggaman. o 45 

Loyal Bi-ue and Royal Scarlet. Marion A. Taggart. o 85 

Madcap Set at St. Anne’s. Marion J. Brunowe. o 45 

Marcelle. a True Story. o 45 

Mary Tracy’s Fortune. Sadlier. o 45 

Master Fridolin. Emmy Giehrl. o 25 

Milly Aveling. Sara Trainer Smith. Cloth, o 85 

Mysterious Doorway. Anna T. Sadlier. o 45 

My Strange Friend. Father Finn. o 25 

Nan Nobody. Mary T. Waggaman. o 40 

Old Charlmont’s Seed-Bed. Sara Trainer Smith. o 45 

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Olive and the Little Cakes. o 45 

Our Boys’ and Girls’ Library. 14 vols. Each o 25 

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Priest of Auvrigny. o 45 

Queen’s Page. Katharine Tynan Hinkson. 'o 45 

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Richard; or. Devotion to the Stuarts. o 45 

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Round Table, Juvenile. Illustrated. 1 00 

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Tales and Legends of the Middle Ages. F. De Capella 075 
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Taming of Polly. Ella Loraine Dorsey. o 85 

Three Girls and Especially One. Marion A. Taggart. o 40 
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Tom Playfair; or, Making a Start. Father Finn. o 85 

IQ 


Tom’s Luckpot. Mary T. Waggaman. o 45 

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Village Steeple, The. o 45 

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WiNNETOU, THE Apache Knight. Marion Ames Taggart. o 85 
Wrongfully Accused. William Herchenbach. o 40 


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I 25 

Corinne’s Vow. Waggaman. i 25 

Dion and the Sibyls. A Classic Novel. Miles Keon. Cloth, i 25 
Fabiola; or. The Church of the Catacombs. By Cardinal Wiseman. 

Popular Illustrated Edition, 0.90; Edition de luxe, 5 00 

Fabiola’s Sisters. A Companion Volume to Cardinal Wiseman’s 
“Fabiola.” A. C. Clarke. i 25 

Heiress of Cronenstein, The. Countess Hahn-Hahn. i 25 
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Idols; or, The Secret of the Rue Chauss 4 e d’Antin, De Navery. 

I 25 


In the Days of King Hal. Taggart. net, i 25 

Let No Man Put Asunder. A Novel. Josephine Mari 4 . i 00 
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Marcella Grace. A Novel. Rosa Mulholland. Illustrated 
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Miss Erin. A Novel. M. E. Francis. i 25 

Monk’s Pardon, The. A Historical Novel of the Time of Philip 
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Mr. Billy Buttons. A Novel. Walter Lecky. i 25 

Outlaw of Camargue, The. A Novel. A. de Lamothe. i 25 

Passing Shadows. A Novel. Anthony Yorke. i 25 

Pkrb Monnier’s Ward. A Novel. Walter Lecky. i 25 

Prodigal’s Daughter, The. Lelia Hardin Bugg. i 00 

Romance of a Playwright. Vte. Henri de Bomier. i 00 

Round Table of the Representative American Catholic 
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True Story of Master Gerard, The. By Anna T. Sadlier. i 25 

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WoMAif OF Fortune, A. Christian Reid. i 25 

W0JtLl» WSLL Lost. Esther Robertson. o 75 


II 


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Autobiography op St. Ignatius Loyola. Edited by Rev. J. F. X. 

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Names that Live in Catholic Hearts. Anna T. Sadlier. i 00 

Our Lady op Good Counsel in Genazzano. A History of that 
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Outlines op Jewish History, from Abraham to Our Lord. Rev. 

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St. Anthony, The Saint of the Whole World. Rev. Thomas 
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Story of the Divine Child. Very Rev. Dean A. A Lings, 075 
Story of Jesus. Illustrated. o 60 


12 


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13 


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H 


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